Noah's Dove
by Beth aka Midge
Summary: Josiah's life before Four Corners


1 Noah's Dove  
  
By Beth aka Midge  
  
OW Story (Josiah)  
  
Notes: Once again, I had to make some decisions about events in Josiah's past. I followed cannon as much as possible. This story takes place a couple days after the episode 'Penance'. I chose to portray Indian names in the Cherokee language as opposed to, Red Bear or Silver Wolf; I find it more realistic and less distracting. I doubt very much, and even in my studies, that any of the Native American Indians Tribes referred to each other in the 'white mans' tongue'.  
  
This story is dedicated to all those lost and suffering from the September 11th tragedy in New York, Washington D.C., and Pennsylvania.  
  
Special Thanks: To Julie, for all her corrections and yellow highlights. To Antoinette, for all her wording and encouraging words. To Katherine, for her wonderful suggestions, and to Elisia, for her encouragement!  
  
  
  
1.1 Foreword  
  
1.2 September 1874  
  
Josiah stepped out of the old church and took a deep breath. A home was a good thing to have. As the sun made its decent into the evening, the former preacher thought about his past…and his future. He seated himself on the top step and laced his fingers together while resting his arms across his knees. He sighed. Vin knew about his sister Hanna, he didn't know everything, but he knew about her. In a way, it made him feel better, just having someone else know, and Josiah came to the conclusion, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.  
  
When he spotted the former bounty hunter walking slowly across the dusty street towards the old church, Josiah had to smile. Vin, like a brother, had gone out of his way to discover the truth when Josiah had been accused of murder. In many ways the young tracker reminded Josiah of himself. Only when he was Vin's age, Josiah had been too young to fully understand the value of friends. Over the years he had learned to appreciate those friendships that came along, and well…here he was, still learning. He'd lost his family many years before and really hadn't come to terms with leaving the regulated world of the Priesthood. He'd crossed so many rivers and was just now discovering who 'Josiah Sanchez' was.  
  
It was only a couple of days ago Cyrus Poplar, had killed himself, taking his own life after being discovered as the man who'd killed and attacked several young women. Women like Irene Dunlap, Mary Travis, and…Hanna. They hadn't done anything wrong, except be strong and independent. Josiah didn't understand what drove a man like Poplar to kill out of malice. What was the difference between him and Chris Larabee, or Vin Tanner, or Josiah himself? Was there a difference? He'd killed men before, and not all were in self- defense.  
  
"Josiah," Vin acknowledged. Seeing Josiah's nod of approval, he sat himself down beside the big man and watched as the sun said goodnight.  
  
"Brother," Josiah said, with a sad smile. "You up'ta hearin' a story?"  
  
Vin smiled. He knew what the former preacher needed. He needed to talk, and more importantly he needed someone to listen. Vin intended to be there. "Think that sound's right nice," he responded, leaning back against the railing.  
  
Josiah nodded. "When Hanna and I were kids…" he said fondly, "we used to sneak out of the house while our father was busy and we'd read about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table."  
  
Vin nodded, he'd heard about the stories, mostly from the orphanage where he'd spent some of his time growing up, but he remembered what they were about.  
  
"Father wouldn't let us read such books when we were young…said they were written with the Devil's pen…" he made his voice sound harsh, "but our Ma," his voice was softer, "she didn't mind the stories…she said they were good for a young person's mind…"  
  
1.3 Chapter 1  
  
1.4 San Francisco 1842  
  
"You'd better put that book away before you father gets back," Ruth Sanchez said, trying to hide her smile while she finished washing the dishes. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a bun that rested at the base of her skull. She shifted her stance as her feet became more uncomfortable from standing. The apron tied around her waist did little to protect her simple brown dress from the water splashing around the washbowl.  
  
"Why does he hate them so?" Josiah asked. He looked at his sister who could only shrug her shoulders.  
  
"His heart is in the right place," Ruth responded, as though she were trying to convince herself of that very thing. "He believes your body is a temple…"  
  
"He's told us that," Hanna complained. "Besides…if our body was a temple…why then does he do the things he does?" She touched her bruised shoulder that was hidden not only from Josiah's eyes but her Mother's as well.  
  
"Hush child," Ruth scolded. "Don't speak ill of your father."  
  
"She wasn't speakin' ill of him," Josiah spoke up. "I think it's a good question." He closed the book and quickly hid it in the waistband of his pants.  
  
"Your father is under a lot of pressure," Ruth tried to explain, but felt as though she was failing. "He's an example to the community and if they see him acting in a manner that he admonishes…who would believe what he has to say."  
  
"Why don't you mind that we read those books?" Hanna asked.  
  
Ruth turned and looked at her two children. They were quickly becoming young adults. Josiah was now fifteen and Hanna would turn thirteen within the month. "I think you're old enough to know the difference between right and wrong, and I want you to know that there is more in the world than just what your father and I can tell you."  
  
"Like India," Hanna said with a smile. She had loved it when her father's missionary work had taken them to that far away land.  
  
Ruth reached out and touched her daughter's cheek. "Yes, like India."  
  
"I want to go back," Hanna said matter-of-factly.  
  
"Believe that…and you will," Ruth responded, before going back to her dishes.  
  
Josiah looked at his Mother and then at his sister and saw so much similarity there. They both had the same fragility about them, the same hazel eyes, and the same light complexion. However, there was a wildness in Hanna that his mother didn't have.  
  
It wasn't uncommon for Hanna to sneak out on warm nights wearing nothing but her nightshirt and play in the small stream not far from the house. She said it was the only time she didn't feel trapped by her father's harsh criticism. Young ladies were not to be seen doing unladylike things. Playing in her knickers was one of those things. Ruth didn't mind seeing her daughter enrich her life by acting in ways that freed her spirit. Her husband, Caleb, didn't see things that way. He wanted his children to walk within the Biblical laws. They were a reflection of him as a man, and he saw himself as a faithful servant of God.  
  
The front door squeaked open, allowing all of the home's occupants to know someone was arriving. Caleb Sanchez hung his hat on the nail behind the door and straightened his plain black attire. He was a big man with wild gray hair that seemed to have a mind of its own. His face had warm features but the coldness of his eyes told a different story. His face was clean- shaven, and yet at the end of the day, the hint of a five o' clock shadow appeared on his chin.  
  
"Ruth," Caleb said, turning toward his wife, "your ankles are showing."  
  
Quickly, Ruth pulled her dress down. She'd lost track of time and forgotten all about tucking it up into her apron. She only did it to keep the hem from getting dirty while she worked on her chores.  
  
"I kept a plate warm for you." She opened the wood cook stove and placed the pie tin that was full of food on the table. " Josiah, Hanna," she motioned for her children to leave the table and get ready for bed. The immediately obeyed and quietly left the room.  
  
Caleb pulled out the chair his son had been sitting in and leaned back. "I'm taking Josiah to town with me tomorrow."  
  
Ruth nodded her head in understanding. That was where Caleb had been spending the majority of his time, teaching the Chinese about the 'true' God. She knew that Josiah had a special friendship going with several of the Chinese people. She also knew that he enjoyed learning about new beliefs and religions, and she wanted him too.  
  
"He'll be pleased. It does him good to get out," Ruth responded, returning to her dishes.  
  
"He's simply going to help me preach the Word…nothing more I don't want him learning anymore about the pagan ways of the Chinese." Caleb shook his head looking at his plate. "They pray to their dead relatives."  
  
Ruth wisely kept her opinion to herself. She turned her attention back to her husband as he said grace before starting his evening meal. She looked up and smiled when Josiah and Hanna quietly reentered the kitchen.  
  
She watched as her children said their goodnights to their father and she kissed them each on the cheek before they made their way up to their rooms. Caleb was a strict man. He demanded that things be done his way…no exceptions. She knew Josiah was finding his father's strong hand to be extremely restrictive. Ruth understood that perfectly. Her children were free thinkers and needed to be encouraged to follow their passions and their dreams rather than be confined to their father's rigid demands. Ruth knew Hanna would soon do whatever she had to in order to escape, and Josiah… Josiah would break his own spirit and body trying to please Caleb. And Caleb would let him.  
  
Ruth had married Caleb when she was just fifteen. She'd been born a Pennsylvania coal miner's daughter and she couldn't wait for this wonderful man to show her the world. At first, the marriage was seemingly perfect. However, as time went by, she saw him for who he was. He wasn't a bad man, just overzealous when it came to his beliefs. His missionary work took precedence, and ultimately it was his family that suffered.  
  
Josiah was fifteen, in a world where other boys his age were taking on adult roles, he was still treated as a child. He was expected to be in bed at a certain time, study his Bible an hour before and an hour after breakfast, and he was expected to obey without question. But Josiah had questions, he had countless questions, and they were questions that needed answers. Ruth knew her son loved his father, but one day that love would be quenched with anger and bitterness when Josiah reached manhood. She was helpless to do anything but watch. She worried more about Hanna. Though she was still just a girl she seemed older for her age. Ruth had repeatedly told her husband that Hanna had an old soul. Caleb just laughed. According to him, his wife put too much stock in her 'gut feelings', and they were to be ignored. Hanna just needed a stronger hand.  
  
Ruth continued to finish her dishes in silence, wondering what paths her children's lives would take.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
As Josiah helped his father repair the wheel to their surrey, a storm was brewing, and not just with the weather. Caleb paused, and looked up at the sky then slowly shook his head. He needed to get the wheel fixed before Sunday. He was particularly proud of the sermon he'd been working on and he wanted everyone to hear it. He turned his attention toward the wood shed after hearing what sounded like laughter coming from within it.  
  
"Don't try and put the wheel on by yourself," Caleb ordered Josiah. "I'll help you when I get back."  
  
Josiah looked up and watched as his father headed towards the wood shed. Grease dripping onto the dusty ground from the brush he held. He didn't know what his father was looking for or what had captured his attention, but his walk and stiff shoulders told the boy something bad was about to happen. Josiah knew his father was upset and he hoped it wasn't something he'd done...or didn't do.  
  
******  
  
Caleb opened the woodshed door and found his thirteen-year-old daughter with a boy no older than Josiah. The tension in the air seemed to thicken with each passing second. Caleb didn't say anything right away. Instead, he looked critically at his daughter, and then, maliciously at the young man who had been caught with his hand up her blouse.  
  
Before anything could be said or done the young boy rushed past Caleb and toward the woods behind the house. His horse was hidden out there. He felt a rock hit him in the back of his shoulder, but he kept on running, never thinking about Hanna or her fate.  
  
Caleb turned his attention back to his daughter. He paused to wipe the dirt off of his hand onto his dark pants. The veins on the side of his neck were pulsating. When he bent to reach for his daughter's arm she quickly hid behind a pile of split wood.  
  
"Get out here now!" Caleb ordered. He pointed to the ground indicating where he wanted his daughter to stand before him. "NOW!"  
  
With shaky hands, Hanna moved past the woodpile and stood in the spot where her father had pointed. She stuck her chin out in defiance and tried to be strong, but the fear in her eyes gave away her weakness.  
  
"Do you have any idea of the position you have put me in?" Caleb continued to rage, "I am a minister in this town and my own daughter is no better than the pagans I preach to! Where is your shame?"  
  
Hanna clenched her jaw and continued to hold her defiant stance.  
  
"How do you want your punishment delivered?" He asked, before she could say a word.  
  
"I don't think I did anythin' wrong," she spoke up.  
  
Caleb grabbed her arm forcefully and pulled her up into his face. "The Devil is in you child and I will beat him out of you."  
  
Hanna's heart started to pound frantically in her chest as the grip on her arm became tighter. She glanced over her father's shoulder and noticed Josiah walking toward them. In her preoccupation, the slap her father delivered to her face caught her off guard and she fell to the ground in a heap.  
  
Seeing Hanna fall, Josiah rushed for his sister. He pushed his father out of the way and stood guard over her. Hanna pressed her hand to her face and tried to collect herself.  
  
"MOVE OUT OF MY WAY, BOY!" Caleb screamed, even angrier now.  
  
"Don't…" before Josiah could finish he was pushed violently to the ground.  
  
Hanna screamed when her father picked her up and pushed her towards the woodshed. Josiah chased after them rubbing his abraded hands and skinned up elbow on his pants. At fifteen, he was taller and bigger than most boys his age, but he still wasn't big enough or knowledgeable enough to defend his sister. He jumped when he heard the door too the woodshed slam shut. The solid click of the lock inside caused him to shudder.  
  
******  
  
Hanna continued to cry as she wrapped her arms around her knees. Josiah sat next to her with his head down. He'd listened to the paddling from within the woodshed all the while wishing he could do something. His mother had returned from her trip to town and had immediately known what was happening. Like Josiah, she hadn't been able to do anything. As Caleb got older he became more violent and more self-righteous. Ruth did what she could to comfort her daughter in the aftermath, but it wasn't enough…it was never enough.  
  
"I hate him," Hanna said, forcefully wiping the tears from her cheeks.  
  
Josiah nodded his head in understanding.  
  
Hanna grabbed her brother's shirtsleeve and turned pleading eyes to him. "We could run away…leave this place," she spoke as if this was the first time the idea had come to her. "You look older than you are Josiah, and you can work." She sat up on her knees. "I can cook and clean."  
  
"We don't have any money, Hanna." Josiah looked hard at his sister. Though the idea was appealing it wasn't practical. "Where would we go?"  
  
"Anywhere, where he couldn't find us," she pleaded. "I'll go mad if I stay here."  
  
"Why must you push 'im so?" Josiah asked. He knew that in most cases, it wasn't her fault but it always seemed that Hanna placed herself in these situations.  
  
"Push him?" Hanna asked in surprise. "I don't have to push him Josiah…he hates me." She slumped back into a sitting position and twisted her hand the hay that she was sitting on.  
  
"He doesn't hate you," Josiah responded, unconvincingly.  
  
Hanna looked out the loft doors of the barn and sighed. She could tell by Josiah's tone that he didn't believe what he'd just said. That was okay, because she didn't believe it either.  
  
******  
  
Ruth wiped the tears from her cheeks as she stood at the base of the stairs leading up to the hayloft. She'd heard everything. Her children were suffering because of her inability to provide a safe home for them. She saw this as being her fault. Perhaps if she had provided a safer home Hanna wouldn't have to search for comfort in another way. Her children needed a home where they felt loved, by not just one parent, but two.  
  
Caleb demanded things of his children that they obviously couldn't deliver. There had been a time when he hadn't been so strict, but like his father before him, he was trying to control every aspect of his children's lives. Hanna had acted inappropriately and she deserved to be punished, but not in the manner that she had. Ruth dried her eyes then grabbed her skirt. She had to be strong, not just for herself but her children as well. She quietly started up the stairs.  
  
******  
  
Josiah watched his sister carefully. He knew she was serious when she'd said she wanted to leave. He loved his sister and he wanted to do what he could to protect her, but he didn't know how to do that and obey his father at the same time. Hanna wasn't alone in her feelings, he too felt as though his father hated him at times. He looked up when he noticed his mother stick her head up over the top step and he smiled weakly.  
  
Ruth returned the smile to her son then slowly made her way into the loft. "Are you both all right?" she asked quietly.  
  
"No!" Hanna responded sharply.  
  
Ruth nodded her head in understanding. "I understand why you're angry…" she didn't have a chance to finish when her daughter threw herself into her mother's arms. "I'm so sorry," she whispered into Hanna's ear.  
  
Josiah watched in silence as Hanna cried on her mother's shoulder. There was something about Ruth that made her children succumb to her warmth. She reached out and grasped Josiah's hand.  
  
"After church on Sunday, when your father leaves for his studies with the miners…we'll leave here…and find a place of our own." She looked hard at her children. "Pack one bag and keep it hidden underneath your beds…"  
  
"What are we going to do for money?" Josiah asked concerned.  
  
"Always the practical one, Josiah, the fire of the Lord." She smiled looking at her son, "Sometimes it is best to think with your heart…not your head." She clasped her hands around Hanna's face then continued, "I have a little bit of money saved. It's enough to get us to my sister's in Ohio." She smiled confidently, grasping her hands around her children's. She could see the newfound hope on their faces. "Be ready and don't tell anyone." She waited until both her children nodded their heads in understanding. She knew they ready and willing to leave.  
  
Hanna hugged her mother tighter. "I won't say a word," she promised.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Hell fire and brimstone. Caleb Sanchez preached the gospel as though his long robe was on fire. He looked out over his perish. They were his family, they were the souls that needed to be saved. He didn't realize the very people he was trying to save was an allusion to his family at home.  
  
Ruth kept a tight grasp on her children's hands. She was just as scared as they were. How was she going to care for her family? What would Caleb do once he discovered they were gone? What would she do when she ran out of money? She wouldn't be sharing the responsibility of caring for her children…now she would be on her own. Josiah was old enough and well educated, he could easily find a job. Hanna and herself would be more difficult. She could cook…and perhaps…they could work as a seamstress team.  
  
She had made the final plans to leave once her husband had dropped them off at the house. As soon as he left after lunch she intended to take her family to the train station. She made enough food to last them awhile and she knew how to budget her money. Now, it was simply building the courage to leave. And she would…for her children's sake.  
  
******  
  
Caleb shook the hands of his patrons as they left the small church and said some encouraging words to those who needed to hear them. He smiled and graciously accepted the congratulations for his 'wonderful' sermon. He didn't notice Ruth or his children's unusually quiet behavior.  
  
As soon as he was ready he helped his wife into the newly repaired surrey. Josiah and Hanna sat in the back and to keep his sister calm he grabbed her hands in a comforting embrace. He was scared as well, but like his mother he knew this was for the best.  
  
"I didn't hear your opinions on my sermon," Caleb announced. "Please, tell me what you thought." He slapped the reins on the horse's back and moved the chestnut gelding into an easy trot.  
  
"It was one of your best," Ruth said, looking out past the road and toward the dark blue sky.  
  
"I must agree," Caleb responded confidently. "Although, I don't think Mr. Tansy would agree," he said with a smile, however, there was a hint of bitterness in his voice.  
  
"His wife Lydia is due to have her first child. He didn't leave because of your sermon," Ruth chastised.  
  
Caleb held his tongue but everyone in the carriage knew he was upset over his wife's statement. Josiah looked at his father and wondered what he would say to his wife when he was alone with her. Josiah swallowed; his father wouldn't say anything…because they wouldn't be there.  
  
Josiah instinctively reached out and held his sister tight as the surrey suddenly moved violently to the right. Ruth and Hanna both screamed and tried to jump from the cart when it tilted and landed harshly on its side. The horse spooked and rushed forward dragging the cart behind him.  
  
The big horse took another lurch forward, breaking the cart's main axe, freeing himself from the shafts and reins. Everyone froze for a moment as if time stood still. Josiah adjusted his grip on his sister and when he discovered she was fine except for a few scrapes and bruises then turned his attention to his mother. Caleb had freed himself from the wreckage and was trying to help his wife who was now trapped beneath the surrey.  
  
"MOMMA!" Hanna yelled, seeing the condition of her mother. She ignored her own injuries and pried herself out of Josiah's grasp then moved to tend Ruth.  
  
Ruth opened her eyes and looked in shock at the situation. She couldn't feel anything below her waist. She smiled when her daughter picked up her hand and held it tightly. "It's all right," she tried to comfort.  
  
Hanna continued to weep as she brushed the bloody stands of hair away from her mother's face. "Don't die," she pleaded.  
  
Josiah and his father worked frantically trying to lift the surrey off of Ruth. Hanna turned pleading eyes to her brother when she noticed a growing puddle of blood beneath the carriage sidewall. Josiah paused and looked at his mother's face. Even in her condition she was the only member of the family who didn't seem to be worried. She knew she was dying, and her thoughts lay with her children…not her own life.  
  
Ruth's labored breathing came quicker and shorter but she kept a smile on her face trying to comfort her daughter. Josiah kneeled down next to Hanna and begged God for his mother's life. Was this the consequence for their hasty plans to leave?  
  
"Josiah," Caleb said, capturing his son's attention. "Take your sister home," he paused looking down at his family, "now."  
  
"NO!" Hanna screamed, holding on tighter to her mother. "I won't leave her with you!" she sobbed.  
  
"It…it's all right," Ruth mumbled, her voice barely audible. She kissed Hanna on the cheek when her daughter lowered herself closer to her mother's face.  
  
"I love you," Hanna whispered in her mother's ear. She tried to shrug out of Josiah's strong grip when he started to pull her away.  
  
"She's gone," Josiah whispered in disbelief, as he pulled his sister from the sight. His mother's eyes stared blankly at the sky and for the first time in his life he watched as his father wept.  
  
Josiah hugged his sister as she cried into his chest. Tears from his own eyes fell down his cheeks. How could things have gone so wrong so quickly? He wanted nothing more than to be gone from this place…from this pain.  
  
Ruth was dead.  
  
******  
  
Caleb gave the eulogy at his wife's funeral while his children stood together next to the simple casket. Over a hundred people showed up to pay their respects, and both Josiah and Hanna were pleased to see the impact their mother had on these people.  
  
The wheel that had been replaced only a day before had broken again. That had been the cause of the accident. Caleb, in his grief, had inadvertently blamed his son. Josiah blamed himself already he didn't need the accusations coming from his father. Arguments became more common in the Sanchez household. Usually between Josiah and his father. Hanna rarely spoke and when she did it was never directly to Caleb. She blamed him for everything and she took her anger out on herself.  
  
Caleb locked himself away in his study, burying himself in his Bible. The loss of Ruth had resulted in the final separation of his family and there wasn't anything he could do about it. His daughter refused to speak with him, and it seemed every time he entered a room, she found some excuse to leave. Josiah had become distant as well. Caleb had lost that bit of respect he had once had with his son. Now, he wasn't anything more than a stranger.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
As the next couple of years went by Josiah found himself falling further and further away from his father's teachings. At seventeen, well over six feet tall, and with muscles on top of muscles, he was no longer intimidated by his father's size. Although Caleb didn't let that detour him from giving his children the punishment he felt they deserved.  
  
Hanna had befriended a young couple from town. Caleb didn't like their influence on his daughter but Josiah's persistence had enabled the friendship to continue. For the first time in years Hanna smiled, spoke freely, and seemed to be enjoying life. Josiah didn't care why…as long as she was happy. However, he was anything but.  
  
The tension in the Sanchez household could be cut with a knife on most nights. While Hanna was visiting friends, Caleb locked himself in his room, and Josiah studied. He studied all religions, not just the one he grew up with. He was finding it difficult to follow the same religious tenets as his father. How did Caleb know that his way was the right way? There were so many different beliefs out there that Josiah wanted to learn as many of them as he could. His father didn't agree.  
  
******  
  
Hanna smoothed her blue skirt down and pulled her shawl over her shoulders. She was heading into town for a barn dance. Her beau was a young man by the name of Harvey Dalton. He was a handsome young man who Caleb even approved of. After all, Harvey had aspirations of becoming a minister.  
  
When a small chestnut mare trotted up to the house Hanna looked out the window and saw that Harvey had arrived. The black buggy seemed to be the perfect vehicle to arrive into town with. She blew past Josiah and her father and rushed toward the carriage and allowed Harvey to help her to her seat. She saw him as a means of escape from her current situation. More than anything she wanted to leave her father's influence.  
  
Josiah watched her leave knowing what it was she was feeling. Like her, he wanted to disappear as well. He couldn't stand to be around his father anymore. All of Caleb's attention was focused on saving the souls of the people in his parish, and the people he ministered to on the road.  
  
Josiah gripped the book on Confucianism tighter and sighed. His father hated the book, but there was something about it though that fed Josiah's need to learn. He didn't necessarily feel that the book was right or that the Chinese peoples' way of life was right, but it was different and that's what fed his desire. What religion could honestly say they were right in all things? He'd seen so much wrong in all beliefs, including his own.  
  
Caleb watched as his daughter left with her young beau. He hoped she'd get married, that way he wouldn't have to worry about her anymore. He loved his children; he just didn't know how to show it. The Word he taught meant more to him than anything, including his family. He believed the best way of parenting was through discipline. He didn't realize how a kind word or a hug could change a child's bad day into a good one.  
  
Caleb turned angry eyes to his son when he saw the book he had grasped in his hands. "I don't want that…trash…in my house," he snapped.  
  
"It's not trash," Josiah retorted.  
  
"It's an abomination to everything that is righteous!" Caleb snapped.  
  
"And in this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all people a feast of choice pieces, a feast of wines on the lees, of fat things full of marrow, of well-refined wines on the lees. And He will destroy on this mountain the surface of the covering cast over all people, and the veil that is spread over all nations…"  
  
"Don't you throw the Bible at me, boy!"  
  
"You can't deny what is in front of you forever," Josiah said in disbelief.  
  
"I can and I will deny you," his voice was low and threatening.  
  
"You already have," Josiah responded sadly. He threw the book he'd been carrying onto the table. "Strange," he said with a laugh, "how a man like you, who saves souls, could lose his family so easily."  
  
"Better to lose my family than my soul." He didn't pay attention to the shocked expression his son wore. "If you're not gone by morning I'll have the sheriff escort you out."  
  
Josiah nodded his head in understanding. "I'll be gone."  
  
******  
  
Josiah's big bay gelding nudged his handler's shoulder as the cinch was tightened. He could tell by his master's mannerisms that things weren't right. It was in part due to the erratic movements, spontaneous vocalizations, and the unpredicted shedding of tears. King, short for King Arthur was the name appropriately given to the big bay by Hanna. Josiah didn't mind the name, at least it wasn't Red, the name the animal had when he purchased him.  
  
Carefully, Josiah tied his few belongings to the skirt of his saddle. He didn't want to leave his sister. Hanna was the most important person in his life, but he understood that she'd met someone she truly cared about and he wouldn't pull her away from the possibility of her happiness. Harvey Dalton seemed to be a nice young man with great potential. Even if it didn't work out, Hanna was spending most of her time with her new friends in town. She'd be safe with them until he could save enough money and get himself settled. Then he could send for her.  
  
Josiah jumped when he felt a soft hand on his shoulder and he turned to find a surprised Hanna staring back at him. "You're leaving?" She just knew it, even though nobody had told her.  
  
Josiah nodded his head. "I can't stay here."  
  
"We could go together," Hanna said with a smile. "I don't have much to pack, and I won't be in the way…"  
  
"What about Harvey?" Josiah asked.  
  
"He's real sweet but…well, you understand," she avoided the question. Hanna pulled on her brother's arm and turned pleading eyes to him. "Don't leave without me."  
  
"As soon as I have some money saved, I'll send for you."  
  
"Will you?" Hanna looked intensely at her brother. She knew he believed fully in what he said…but she didn't. She laughed and patted King on his nose and looked around the barn. The shadows seemed to have a life of their own as the flame from the lantern flickered. "Mr. Waters and Becky are taking me on a picnic on Wednesday. Harvey wanted to come but I said he couldn't." She smiled again and then reached up and kissed Josiah on the cheek. "He's real nice and all…but he's so boring." Hanna moved around King and scratched the big horse's withers.  
  
Josiah stood motionless for a moment as he watched his sister. She didn't seem to be affected at all that he was leaving…not the goodbye he was looking for.  
  
"I won't tell father you've left," Hanna said with a mischievous smile. "I'll let it be a surprise when he discovers you're gone." She chuckled. "I have to go," she said flatly.  
  
"I love you," Josiah said loud enough for her to hear. He watched her as she stopped at the barn door.  
  
"Goodbye Josiah." She tucked her chin and then headed for the house.  
  
Josiah wasn't sure what it was that he'd just witnessed, but he shook his head and continued to pack. He knew Hanna had a different way of dealing with things, she'd always had. Like today, sometimes she hid the pain trying to pretend it wasn't real, and other times it consumed her. There was no middle ground with Hanna. She always seemed to be at one extreme or the other.  
  
Slowly, Josiah led his horse out of the barn and looked up at the full moon. It was a beautiful night. He smiled and waved at Hanna who was standing at her bedroom window looking down on them. She waved back, then let the lace-curtain fall back into place. The light in her room was quickly extinguished and Josiah understood. It was time to move on.  
  
Chapter 5  
  
1845  
  
Josiah wasn't sure where he was headed. He just knew he was leaving San Francisco. He wasn't even sure if he knew what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, and at seventeen, who could blame him. This would be his first Christmas without his family, and more so, without his mother. He wasn't sure what she'd meant when she had said that he was the 'practical one'. Growing up in a family that was constantly on the move and always relying on the kindness of others to keep them fed and clothed had done its part in Josiah's life. His father always managed to preach the gospel and put the fear of God into his listeners, therefore earning enough money to survive on. Though sometimes tithe and donations just weren't enough.  
  
Never having been afraid of hard work, Josiah took every job he came across. Usually it had to do with carpentry. He didn't mind. It worked not only the body but the spirit as well. He'd continued to travel south, into Texas, where he enlisted in the army.  
  
******  
  
As soon as the Mexican-American War escalated, Josiah knew his life had taken a turn he hadn't expected. Never before had he seen a man killed and even worse…he'd killed. Granted it had been the result of war, but he'd still taken a life, a direct violation of the fifth commandment. But war was different…wasn't it?  
  
This had been the first time in Josiah's life that he hadn't had any restrictions. Nobody was telling him what to do and when to do it. Sure, he followed his orders, but this was different. He also found himself giving in to all the anger he'd built up over the years. Anger directed at his father he was now directing toward the enemy. Every time he fired his weapon, every fight he found himself in, and anyone who was unfortunate enough to get in his way when he felt the anger strike him, was doomed to suffer the consequences.  
  
His reputation of being quick to anger became known throughout the ranks. Josiah was a man who wouldn't tolerate abuse or inaction. It was strange watching a man become violent toward someone, often at the drop of a hat for mistreating a woman, violating the rules of war, of even striking a horse out of anger. There were some things Josiah expected out of his fellow man, and one of those things was respect for all life.  
  
War had a strange way of making boys into men, and, making men into boys. Orders were usually yelled over the sound of gunfire and cannon roars. Men fell to the ground bleeding and crying their last. The weather was hot and dry and at times water became more valuable than gold. Food rarely ran short but when it did those men of the lowest ranks lost their horses for food. Those men were then made to walk. There were no uniforms and clothing ranged from buckskins to home spun linens. Men who'd enlisted clean-shaven and well dressed quickly became dirty and bearded. The war was hard on everyone, but an arrangement had to be made between Mexico and America, and part of that deal was California and Texas.  
  
******  
  
Josiah wrote to his sister when he could and he tried not to let it bother him that she never wrote back. It wasn't that he didn't miss her, he did, but in the lack of response he was able to avoid the possible pain and sorrow any letter might bring. He wanted to remember Hanna as he left her, carefree and spontaneous. He tried not to think about his father and when he did he usually followed it up with a bottle of red-eye. There was so much pain still hidden and buried that Josiah struggled to free it.  
  
"You ever gonna get a letter? The way you send 'em out you should," Michael O'Rourke tossed a small piece of wood into the fire that was slowly burning. He was a short man with unkempt bright red hair. He'd earned the nickname 'Irish' because of his obvious heritage. He wore a goatee that was pointed at the chin and his mustache he rolled at the ends. Scars from a rough adolescence marred his forehead and cheeks.  
  
"This comin' from someone who can't read," Josiah responded in good humor.  
  
"Don't matter none, Pike from Walt's squad done read all his letters ta me and they weren't nothin' but his folks talkin' about his brother havin' the shits."  
  
Josiah chuckled and continued writing his letter. "What about your family?"  
  
"Ain't got none," Irish shook his head, "my Ma died when I was just a kid and my Pa drowned after 'e got drunk and fell off the fishin' boat."  
  
"Sorry to hear that."  
  
"Na," Irish shook his head. "Figure it's better this way. Can't write anyways so at least this way they'll be waitin' for me when I get wherever it is I'm goin' after I die." He leaned up against the log and looked out toward the other campfires that were burning in the distance. "What'er you gonna do when the War's over?"  
  
"I'll make that decision when the time comes," Josiah responded flatly.  
  
"You should become a lawman or somthin'. Hell, you're mean enough for it."  
  
"Irish," Josiah paused and looked up at him. "You talk too damn much."  
  
"Been told that before," he laughed, and threw another twig into the fire. "My Pa said once that the fastest way ta spread news was to tell me cuz I worked faster'an the mail service." Irish chuckled.  
  
"Your Pa sounded like a very intelligent man."  
  
"Guess that would depend on who ya asked." Irish leaned back further against the log he'd planned on sleeping against and looked up into the clear sky. "What about your Pa? Is he a smart man?"  
  
Josiah paused a moment and thought hard about the question. "Yes, he's a smart man…but he's not a friendly one."  
  
Michael didn't ask why Josiah didn't think his father was a nice man; he didn't think it was his business. And, Josiah didn't seem like he wanted to talk about it. Instead, he watched the sky and looked at the stars. There were so many of them, and yet, they all seemed isolated.  
  
******  
  
Bullets ricocheted off of rocks as men frantically tried to avoid being hit. Though the battle had been anticipated it was never truly prepared for. It was one thing to fight an opponent from a distance or crouching behind a barrier, but hand to hand combat took more guts…and more brains. Rifle butts, knives, clubs, and even rocks were used to subdue the enemy.  
  
Broken noses, bloodied lips, black eyes, and bruises disfigured everyone involved in the battle. While doctors worked on the more seriously wounded, soldiers cared for each other. Santa Anna was in trouble and that was what kept the men in good spirits. The Santa Fe Trail was now stained with the blood of American soldiers, many of whom claimed Texas as their home.  
  
Josiah wiped away the steady stream of blood from his chin as he looked out over the now tarnished landscape. His right eye was swollen shut. Blood, saliva, and sweat stained his shirt and pants. He looked at his friend, Irish, who was lying in the dirt under a tree trying to find some comfort in the shade. A bloodied bandage covered his right side.  
  
"Think I'll go ta heaven er Hell?" Irish asked, through clenched teeth.  
  
"What do you think?" Josiah answered the question with a question.  
  
"I hope I'm goin' ta heaven…ain't real sure though," he sighed, reaching out for his friend's hand.  
  
"Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him."  
  
Irish smiled. "The son of a preacher," he said trying to catch his breath, "guess I should'a figured that out."  
  
Josiah smiled and watched as his friend's eyes stared blankly at the blue sky. His breaths came shorter and quicker and then they stopped all together. Michael O'Rourke died with his hand held tightly in Josiah's grasp. Things had changed so much for the young son of a preacher. Would his father even recognize him…would Hanna?  
  
Chapter 6  
  
By 1847, war was over between America and Mexico, however, it still raged on in Josiah's mind and soul. He tossed and turned on the bed causing the young woman sleeping next to him to get up. The sun was just coming up over the horizon and the birds were singing their early morning tunes.  
  
Abigail closed her dressing gown around her waist and looked back to the bed and watched in wonder as her companion continued to wrestle his dreams. She'd known Josiah for more than two weeks and had learned little about his past. Like so many of her other customers, she knew he was haunted by his memories. She knew he carried a mean looking knife on the back of his belt and his handgun was never far from his reach. He drank…a lot, and he usually ended up preaching the gospel after one bottle of red eye.  
  
Josiah tossed again, caught up in the memories of war and his memories of home. Anger fed them both. He continued to mumble in his sleep as his dream became more violent. Suddenly, he reached for his weapon that rested on the table next to the bed.  
  
Abigail jumped when she noticed her companion reach for his gun. "Josiah!" she yelled, throwing her tiny form over his body. "Josiah, stop," she ordered, placing herself on his chest next to his face.  
  
Josiah paused and wrapped his heavy arms around the woman lying on top of him. "What happened?" he managed to ask through a haze of memories.  
  
"You was dreamin'," she responded, only inches from his face.  
  
Josiah nodded in understanding and then looked over the room. How had things changed so fast? Abigail pressed her cheek to his and sighed, thankful that nothing had happened. "Did I hurt you?" Josiah asked solemnly.  
  
"No," Abigail responded.  
  
"Praise God," Josiah murmured.  
  
Abigail sat up on the end of the bed and looked down at the handsome man. "You should try talkin' about whatever it is that's botherin' ya…it might help some."  
  
"Talking isn't going to help."  
  
"Who's Hanna?" Abigail tried to busy herself with one of Josiah's shirts. She returned her gaze back to the bed. "You talk in your sleep," she answered, before he could ask.  
  
Josiah sat up and ran his hands over his face. At twenty-two, he felt like he was 100. Guilt seemed to eat at his very being. "Hanna's my sister," he said it as though he didn't quite believe it himself. "I promised her that'd I'd save enough money so I could pull her away from our father."  
  
"Why don'tchya?"  
  
Josiah looked at Abigail as though she'd lost her mind. He wasn't living a life that could support his sister. Not knowing where he would be from one day to the next. Never knowing where his next meal came from. No, this wasn't the life he saw for his sister.  
  
"I can't ask her to live the life I do, and who knows for much longer I'll be living it." Josiah sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed his hands over his face feeling his callused fingers on his unshaved chin. "She's safer where she's at."  
  
Abigail looked hard at him. "I don't believe that," she stated, before getting to her feet.  
  
She was right, and deep down Josiah knew it. He just didn't know what to do about it. His life hadn't turned out like he'd expected. He didn't hear the door open and close as Abigail made her way downstairs. He was lost in his past…in his memories.  
  
******  
  
There wasn't one thing in particular that steered Josiah to choose the priesthood as his next step in life. It was, perhaps, a combination of everything. He'd always admired man's faith in their beliefs, and Josiah felt as though that was a large part of his life that was missing. The war had given him the opportunity to fight some of his demons. Those demons included his father, the war, and the guilt he felt over the death of his mother, and for leaving his sister. He wanted to return to her, more than anything he wanted to return to her, but he couldn't, not until he had something to offer her.  
  
To pay for his time at seminary school, Josiah got a job repairing saddles, wagons, and leatherwork in general. He loved working with his hands. His education, though at times trying, was enriching. He'd been so engulfed in his anger that he'd forgotten the feeling of peace.  
  
Josiah continued to write his sister and now that he had an address she knew where to reach him. He received letters only on occasion but he kept every one so he could reread them. Hanna never talked about their father. Sometimes her letters were filled with wild ideas for adventures and other times she could hardly complete a sentence. He knew she was suffering, he didn't need it written on a piece of paper and for the first time in his life he felt as though he was accomplishing something for both of them. He could go back to San Francisco with the intension of caring for his family.  
  
******  
  
Josiah sat in the sanctuary looking at the cross that had been carved over a hundred years before. He was asking God questions only He knew the answers to, and Josiah knew he probably wouldn't get an answer. But he asked them anyway. It was dark and very little light entered the room. The windows were stained glass with beautiful images of Mary and the baby Jesus. He felt most at peace in this room.  
  
Josiah smiled when he felt a warm hand touch his shoulder. He didn't need to turn and look to know who it was.  
  
"Contemplating your orders?" Father John asked gently. This had been his home for more than forty years, and he'd seen many young men graduate and take on their own parishes. He also knew that the last step was always the most trying for most of them. Josiah was no different.  
  
Josiah turned and looked at the father. His eyes were still youthful despite his growing age. Crows feet and laugh lines framed his face. "I fear my faith is not worthy," Josiah confessed.  
  
Father John sat in the pew behind Josiah and looked heartedly at the cross behind the pulpit. "We all question our faith, son."  
  
"All my wrongs…do I have a right to be here?" Josiah turned questioning eyes to the man sitting behind him. This was a question that had disturbed him from the beginning and now that he was so close to taking his orders, and it weighed heavy on his heart.  
  
"That is something only God can answer and that is something you must ask Him."  
  
"Did you get an answer…when you asked?"  
  
Father John smiled, leaning back in the pew. He thought momentarily and then responded, "In a matter of speaking, yes, I did get an answer." He looked hard at the young man who was contemplating the rest of his life. "Following God's path is not always the easiest path to follow…if it were easy," John leaned forward and patted Josiah's shoulder, "you wouldn't be here." With that said he stood up and headed to his other chores.  
  
Josiah watched Father John leave, and he sighed. Life had been so trying. With his mind made up he stood and headed for his room. This was the right path for him to follow…at least for now.  
  
Chapter 7  
  
The simple black suit with the white collar wasn't what people saw first when Josiah entered a new town. It was his size, and then the black suit and white collar. His booming voice only added to his appeal as men and women sought desperately for God. Josiah's knowledge of the Bible combined with his appearance would cause anyone wasn't familiar with Spirit to search Him out.  
  
Josiah never stayed in one town too long, always on the move. He was in a continual search for that missing part of his life. It never dawned on him that he had managed to travel west…he was heading home. After all these years, he was going home.  
  
******  
  
The house looked the same. Perhaps a little worn from the weather, but still the same. Ruth's roses had long since overgrown their small section of the garden. The ground looked to have been untouched since her death so many years before. Josiah knocked on the front door of the house he'd grown up in and waited for an answer. It was later in the day, long past the time his father usually made it home after his visits with his parishioners.  
  
When the door slowly opened, light from within the home seeped from the crack like morning's early dawn. "Who's there?" came the rough angry voice.  
  
"Father," Josiah calmly replied. He clenched his rosary tightly, praying for strength.  
  
The door opened wider and Caleb looked harshly at his son. The once strong, independent, force of a man, was now…no more. His hair was white, but still unruly. He walked with a cane as his back curved drastically to the left. His clothing was still black but tattered. What shocked Josiah the most were his father's eyes. They were so…dead.  
  
"A priest," Caleb laughed. "How pathetic," he snarled, turning and heading back to his chair in his study.  
  
Josiah stood stunned in the doorway, watching as his father slowly made his way from him. Gradually, Josiah entered the home. So much had changed. Dishes littered the counter and table. Dust covered everything in the room. He walked past the disarray and entered the room where his father sat, now wrapped in an old blanket. A fire burned slowly offering little warmth.  
  
"Where's Hanna, father?" Josiah sat down on a stool and watched the man who at one time been his role model.  
  
Caleb turned his attention to his son. "Try the asylum," he spoke bitterly.  
  
"What?" Josiah asked confused.  
  
"I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't have it. I even locked her in the cellar," he replied angrily. "She's turned her back on everything that is righteous, giving herself to every man she could, drinking like…" Caleb turned his attention back to the fire. "Found her in an alley a month back…drinking that Chinese opiate...laudanum…I took her to that place in the hills for those that are mad."  
  
Josiah looked at the ground and then back to his father…or what used to be his father. He was nothing more than a shell of a man now.  
  
"It's your fault she's unbalanced," Caleb accused. "You had no right writing her letters, making her believe you'd come back for her!"  
  
Josiah looked in shock. "It is my fault for leaving her with you!" he snapped, getting to his feet. "How dare you accuse me of this?" He turned his back and continued, "You never touched her except out of violence. You never showed us love, sure, you gave your followers everything they needed but you starved your own family!"  
  
"What gives you the right to come into my home and accuse me of this?"  
  
"I have every right!" Josiah stormed. "I'm your son!"  
  
"No son of mine would have turned his back on me…on God…to become a priest!" Caleb responded, getting slowly to his feet.  
  
"What do you know about God?" Josiah's voice lowered. Pain was etched on his face as he confronted his father. "If this is your representation of Him…" he paused, "I don't want to have anything to do with you." With that said, Josiah looked one last time at Caleb and left the house. He could hear his mother's tears in the back of his mind as he crossed the yard, heading toward his horse. He had to find Hanna.  
  
******  
  
As Josiah rode into town he unclenched his hand and noticed the small indentations left by the rosary; scars that would disappear in time. Josiah remembered when his father was so passionately preaching the gospel. People would come from miles just to hear him speak and as a child he loved and respected his father. Things had changed so much over the years. Josiah wasn't the young exuberant boy looking to please his father in any manner he could. Now, he was a war veteran and a servant of God. He'd learned the hard way that life wasn't a guarantee. There were too many variables that could take it away. His father be damned.  
  
******  
  
The San Francisco Institute for the Mentally Impaired sat alone on a hill overlooking the city and oceanfront below. Trees and shrubs lined the tall brick fence and steel gate. Josiah paused as he looked in. The darkness of night and bright moon seemed to create a haunting image of Hanna within those walls. There was a solitary light burning in a window adjacent to the front doors, but he didn't think he could get anyone's attention.  
  
When the sound of footsteps sounded in the distance, Josiah immediately perked up. He tried to press his face as close to the steel gates as he could. A guard, carrying a lantern, was slowly making his way to the front gate. Josiah decided to wait. He could hear his horse munching on the grass, the clang of his bridle grinding against teeth and leather.  
  
"Who's there?"  
  
Josiah jumped, hearing the guard's heavy voice. He resumed his previous position at the gate, trying to peer in.  
  
"Please, I'm Father Sanchez. I need to get inside."  
  
The guard trotted over to the gate bringing his lantern up as to see whom he was talking to. "Sorry Father, but the gate's to remained locked 'til mornin'," the guard replied sadly. His uniform was tattered at best and he reeked of alcohol. His hands shook almost uncontrollably, but he seemed coherent enough.  
  
"There's someone in there I need to see," Josiah pleaded.  
  
"If you come early in the mornin' you won't have no trouble gettin' in. Miz Wales, why she'd be the one to see if you got someone in here worth seein'," the guard looked down and started up again, "to be truthful Father, can't see you havin' anyone worth seein' in a place like this."  
  
"Perhaps this is the kind of place where someone like myself is most needed."  
  
"All these folks is loony in the head, ain't a one of 'em that's…right." The guard shook his head. "Most folks in this place die 'fore too long, don't get many visitors neither."  
  
Josiah nodded his head in understanding. His sister was in this place and he needed to get her out. "What time in the morning would be appropriate?"  
  
"Eight, I reckon."  
  
"Thank you, Brother." Hesitantly, Josiah headed to his horse and mounted up. More than anything he wanted to ride in there and get his sister out, but he'd have to wait until morning.  
  
******  
  
The call of the saloon seemed to grow stronger as Josiah made his way into town. He tried to rely on his rosary for strength and his belief in God, but so much had happened. He hadn't expected his sister to be locked away in…that place. Was it his fault for leaving? Would she have been placed there if he'd come home sooner? Would she even accept him?  
  
With questions bombarding his mind Josiah rode past the church he'd called home for the past four years and headed to the quiet hotel at the end of the road. He needed a good night's sleep and he needed to think about his future.  
  
******  
  
Never in all his days had Josiah seen humans treated so disgracefully. Even in battle there was some humanity in the way prisoners of war were handled. But here, people were forced to sleep in the aisles, in nothing more than cotton nightshirts. The stench of human waste filled the building causing Josiah's eyes to water. His sister was amongst this.  
  
Miss Wales led Josiah through the long corridors. She seemed all business, now, that there was a man of the cloth following her. Josiah clenched his Bible and the rosary tighter, praying for strength.  
  
"You must understand that the men and the women are kept in different holdings. It would be highly inappropriate for cohabitation…"  
  
"Yes," Josiah interrupted, "I understand."  
  
"You say Hanna is your sister?" Miss Wales didn't turn to look for an answer, she just kept on walking, "I hope you mean that in the family sense and not in the," she turned and looked at him, "…'Biblical' sense." She turned back toward her destination and continued, "There ain't no use for religion in a place like this."  
  
"Seems to me, that this is the perfect place for it."  
  
"Humph," she shook her head, "these folks are mad, unbalanced…the only thing they need," she sighed, opening the door, "is a burial plot."  
  
Josiah didn't know how to respond to such a cold statement. He followed her into the room and looked around. Rather than bedding, the women were forced to sleep on straw. While some lay still, others were huddled together in groups talking or brushing each other's hair using their fingers. Some rocked back and forth muttering things only they understood. Josiah was appalled at the conditions. He blamed himself for Hanna's predicament.  
  
"There," Miss Wales pointed to the corner of the large room, "is your sister. Don't be surprised when you see her…"  
  
"I want to take her home," Josiah responded sadly.  
  
"Listen, father," she snapped, "you take her out of this place she'll end up in one again just like it. I've seen it happen time and time again. It's best if you just see her and leave."  
  
"I'll be taking her home," Josiah repeated, in a low threatening voice. He left Miss Wales standing by the door and he headed for his baby sister.  
  
Hanna sat on her haunches clutching the hem of her dressing gown, looking lifelessly out the barred window. She didn't notice when Josiah sat down beside her. She looked toward the man in black who placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Hanna," Josiah quietly spoke. When she turned to look at him she quickly turned away and looked back out the window. "I'm so sorry…"  
  
"I knew you'd come back," she whispered.  
  
"I'm taking you away from here," Josiah said, standing up. He gently took his sister's hand and helped her to her feet. She was thin, dirty, and exhausted.  
  
Hanna latched onto her brother's hand as though it was her only link to salvation. She wouldn't let go. She clutched his arm and followed him out of the building. Josiah knew he couldn't save everyone in that asylum but he could save his sister and that's all that mattered to him at the moment. He walked her past Miss Wales and then past the guards. In one hand he clutched the word of God and in the other he held onto the last of his family.  
  
Josiah grabbed his bedroll and covered his sister with the blanket and then helped her into the saddle. With a ridged spine, a determined jaw, and conviction in his heart, he walked out through the front gate.  
  
******  
  
Town was once again bustling with activity as Josiah entered leading his horse while Hanna remained seated in the saddle. He stopped at the general store, and making sure his sister was safe for the time being, he headed inside to purchase her a dress and some food. He didn't know where he was going or what his plans were. He just knew that they were once again leaving the city. Hanna needed some place quiet and reserved, some place clean, and a place where she would be safe. She hadn't said a word since leaving the asylum but she did seem more relaxed.  
  
The storekeeper seemed pleased that a man of the cloth had entered his business. He was more than willing to help. He even gave Josiah a discount, thinking it would help pave his way to heaven. With his arms loaded with packages Josiah left the store to be greeted with his sister trying to stop a group of men from pulling her from the saddle.  
  
"Come on there sugar, ol' Pete said you were the 'best poke in town'," the cowboy joked, grabbing the young woman's arm.  
  
Hanna didn't say anything, she just held tightly onto the saddle horn.  
  
"Let her go," came a deep growl from the boardwalk.  
  
"Well, now Preacher," the young cowboy playfully replied, pulling his hand off of Hanna.  
  
The group of young men backed away. Several left all together, not wanting to cause a problem with a preacher. Others backed away but stayed close enough to watch. The young cowboy called Milt rolled his shoulders daring the preacher to make a move. Josiah walked down the steps and looked up at Hanna to make sure she was okay, and then carefully placed his newly purchased items in his saddlebags. He watched as his sister pulled the blanket back up over her shoulders then grasped the saddle horn tightly again.  
  
"Listen Brother, I don't want any problems." Josiah's voice was calm and reasonable. "My sister and I are traveling through…"  
  
"Your sister's a whore," Milt replied, with a grin. He was looking for a fight, and he didn't care with whom.  
  
Josiah clenched his fist. "We've all been sinners…"  
  
"You savin' her for yourself," before the cowboy could say anything more, he found himself with a bloody lip. "You bastard," he yelped, collecting himself to strike out.  
  
Josiah clasped the boy's fisted hand and squeezed bringing him to his knees, then, with a quick jab, punched him in the jaw sending him to the ground. "Anyone else?" Josiah challenged, looking around. His size and strength had sent the smarter ones away and the rest looked at him in awe. When nobody stepped forward, he grabbed his horse's reins and started walking out of town, leaving everyone to watch in wonder.  
  
It had been so long since violence had been a part of Josiah's life; so long indeed. He found himself longing for the life he'd chosen against. The ability to settle a dispute with force rather than turn the other cheek, maybe he should have listened to Irish and taken to enforcing the law. Perhaps that wouldn't be any better. He was bringing up old questions he'd raised during his time at the seminary. Did he have a right to be wearing the cloth? What made him any better than the next man? Why did he want to turn too violence and the drink rather than God when the need arose? Why was he haunted with the image of his father?  
  
Josiah continued walking until they came upon a quiet place to camp overnight. Only the sounds of the horse's hooves hitting the hardened dirt and the animal's heavy breathing filled the air. Hanna had not said a word since leaving the asylum. She seemed content just sitting atop Star's back, swaying with his motions, and feeling the breeze in her hair.  
  
Carefully, Josiah helped her down off the horse and he walked her to the creek so she could bathe. He took the blanket, thinking she could manage on her own, and went to get the dress he'd gotten her in town. Star grazed happily on the lush green grass while his master searched the saddlebags.  
  
Hanna stood completely still letting the crystal clear water run over her tiny feet. Unsure of what to do, she simply waited.  
  
Josiah headed back for the creek not wanting to disturb his sister, but when he looked up his heart cringed. She stood in the water like a child afraid to swim. Her nightgown clung to her body as she looked curiously at the rocks. Never in his life did he think he'd have to become, not only a brother, but also a friend, and a parent for his sister. He took off his jacket and set it with the dress then went to help Hanna.  
  
He had to help her undress, bathe, and redress. All the while he fought the urge to cry. There had been a time when she was so full of life, but now, that spark had been quenched. He had to help her eat, comb her hair, and then put her to bed. He sat up watching her sleep, while poking the fire with a stick. Angry with himself, angry with his father, and angry with God, he thought he'd made the right decision about his life. Now, he knew he was wrong.  
  
Chapter 8  
  
Vista City wasn't the most popular town in the west, matter of fact, it could hardly be called a town at all. A trading post, saloon, brothel, and a territorial jail were the only standing buildings. The locals consisted of farmers, ranchers, and a few miners. Though it was obvious that trappers and hunters frequented the saloons they didn't live in the immediate area. What brought Josiah and Hanna to such a place was the tiny convent on the outskirts of town. A simple place that sought solace and peace.  
  
Wearing his black clothing and white collar, Josiah knocked on the front door. His sister stood behind him grasped tightly in his hand. A nun, with a soft kind face answered the door. She looked momentarily at the father and then to the young woman standing behind him. Nothing was said as she opened her home to these strangers.  
  
For the first time, Hanna let go of Josiah's hand and walked to the stained glass windows and carefully started tracing the lines in the pictures.  
  
"Is there something we can do for you father?" the nun softly asked.  
  
"I am in need of consolation," Josiah admitted, watching his sister.  
  
"Come," the sister ordered.  
  
"I should…"  
  
"Sister Katherine will watch her," she turned understanding eyes to her guest. "Please, let us talk." Sister Margaret patted Josiah's shoulder and guided him into a small office not far from the foyer. "We don't get many visitors here and even fewer men."  
  
"I hope I've not come at a bad time."  
  
"Nonsense." Sister Margaret smiled. "What would you like us to help you with?"  
  
Josiah paused and looked at the woman who was so small yet seemed somehow…overpowering. He told her about his sister and what he needed. He didn't hide anything from this woman and he opened his wounds for her to see. Though she couldn't cure the illness, she could treat the symptoms and for now that was good enough.  
  
Sister Margaret showed Josiah where his sister would be staying and who would be watching her. The convent, though simple, was exactly what he wanted. Hanna could live here and be happy, well, happier than she was before. The nuns were kind and they only wanted the best for her. Because Josiah was a man of God they took her in, regardless of her past, and they opened their doors for him. Whenever he needed a place to rest, food to eat, or a bed to sleep in, he could come here and not fear.  
  
Josiah stood at the doorway and watched as Sister Katherine led Hanna to her room. Yes, this was the best thing for her. He knew that now. That was the one thing in his life that was right.  
  
******  
  
Leaving Hanna in the state she was in was the hardest thing for Josiah to do. Guilt, pain, and anger seemed too consume him. As the doors closed behind him he pulled the white collar from around his neck and stared at it in wonder. Had God forsaken him? Or was he turning his back on God?  
  
With elongated strides, Josiah rushed for his horse. He didn't know when, just that it happened, but he'd dropped his collar. Perhaps leaving it with his past so he could search for his future.  
  
******  
  
The saloon bustled with activity and the sweet smell of whiskey filled Josiah's senses. The big man walked up to the bar and ordered a bottle then quietly set out for a small table in the corner. He had a lot of questions to ask himself, and the even harder task of answering them. He didn't know where to begin. Was this as simple as his faith being tested and he'd failed, or was it more?  
  
The whiskey tasted sweet and slipped down his throat like honey. He tried to block out his father's condemning voice or the look of disappointment on his mother's face. Nothing, however, seemed to matter at the moment except drinking away his problems.  
  
Cowboys played friendly games of cards while others enjoyed their drinks. Laughter, off key piano music, and talking, filled the air like children playing on the wharf on a hot summer day. This really wasn't where he wanted to be. He never thought in a million years that he'd end up like this. And never, did he think his sister would have suffered so.  
  
******  
  
Gone was the black clothing. Now, Josiah wore simple cotton pants and a plain shirt. His rosary was exchanged for a Colt Revolver and his Bible…his Bible he kept wrapped in an old scarf in his saddlebags. Josiah could simply draw attention due to his size, but the weapon strapped to his hip captured attention for other reasons. Though he wasn't a fast draw, he was accurate. What he was known for, however, was his strength and the ability to handle himself in a fight.  
  
Josiah wasn't handsome in the classical sense of the word. He was striking, and women found his looks strangely irresistible. With a heavy jaw, narrow eyes, and a full head of dark unruly hair, the ladies did enjoy his company. What they didn't enjoy was his 'simple' life. Money wasn't his desire, the search for knowledge was. Where many men his age were consumed with marriage and financial stability, he was consumed with bettering his life in seeking the knowledge of others. He read books on philosophy, religions, and political views. The more he read though, the more questions he asked.  
  
Josiah worked odd jobs. Sometimes he worked cattle, mended fences, and built homes. Wherever he felt needed he went. He continued to study, even stopping along the way to learn from trappers and Indian traders about the ways of the Indian people. Josiah found his faith in the faith of others. It amazed him how so many different beliefs could have so many devoted followers. He admired that…and he wanted to be a part of it.  
  
Discovering new places and new things wasn't something that was unfamiliar to the son of a traveling Minister. They'd visited places like India, Africa, and most of the Americas. Josiah had to admit to himself that he missed seeing the look in people's eyes when they discovered something new. When they found a new faith and a new god.  
  
******  
  
The Cherokee people were one of five 'civilized tribes'. However, the white population disregarded Washington's claim that the people of the Cherokee Nations were the first Indians to learn the white man's ways. After all, they were still Indians.  
  
Josiah was drawn to them for not only the people, but also their way of life. The laws they lived by and learned by somehow brought him out of his reverie and back into the living. After leaving Hanna, he'd shut himself off from everything and everyone. He'd even killed a man in a bar fight for doing nothing more than spilling his drink. It was his own strength that he didn't understand. He could pick a man up off his feet and throw him across a room and not break a sweat. He'd even wrestled a bull…and won. The stories soon found their way across the lands and rumor had it, that simply stepping into Josiah's way could get a man killed. Of course the rumors had lives of their own but there was always some truth to them.  
  
Through a twist of fate, Josiah came to live with a small tribe of Cherokee just north of Texas. It was a young brave who found him wandering the land just south of the tribe. He was stumbling about without a shirt on, without a horse, and carrying an empty bottle of red-eye. By the time the young warrior had brought Josiah to his chief the big man was sound asleep.  
  
Iskagua or, Clear Sky, was the Indian Chief who allowed Josiah to stay at his camp. Though it wasn't uncommon to see trappers and traders making their way through campgrounds, it wasn't all that common either. Iskagua was a peaceful man who enjoyed the life that had been given him. After suffering a life threatening illness and escaping the Raven Mocker, he lived life to the fullest and gave every being the same chance that had been given him so many years ago. He saw Josiah as a lost soul, someone who needed to be healed, not on the outside, but the inside.  
  
When Josiah woke to a pounding headache, he wasn't entirely sure where he was. The smell of rawhide and fire invaded his senses, but it was the soft bed covered in buffalo hides that brought him back into reality. An Indian woman sat on her heels and gently wiped his face with a doeskin cloth. Her long black hair was pulled back into a single braid that reached the middle of her back. She spoke softly in a tongue that Josiah didn't understand, but there was a kindness in her voice and her face that made him relax. He didn't remember much other than leaving the town he'd been staying in. For reasons he couldn't remember.  
  
When the tepee flap opened the Indian woman quickly took her leave as the chief entered. With long gray hair that had been expertly braided and entwined with leather and feathers, Iskagua, made himself comfortable on the pallet next to the bed. He wore buckskin clothing but it was the kindness in his face that settled Josiah's fear.  
  
After the introductions were made Josiah sat up as to be more attentive to his host. The brown blanket that had been covering him fell to his waist exposing his bare chest.  
  
"It was Gitlu'gunahi'ta that found you amongst the thickets," Iskagua went on to say. "My people have decided to call you, Yan-e'gwa." He smiled when he noticed the confused look of his guest. "It means Big-Bear. They refer to your size." The chief puffed out his chest and brought out his arms to make himself look bigger.  
  
Josiah smiled and then nodded in understanding. "Thank you…for takin' me in like you have."  
  
Iskagua nodded his head in acceptance. "Several of the children found your horse and belongings. The animal seemed to be looking for you. He is a good friend?"  
  
Josiah nodded.  
  
"I'm an old man, but I learned long ago that a friend like that is worth keeping," the chief smiled and then reached over and patted his young guest on the shoulder. "I will send Wa'le'la back in," he said getting to his feet, "I'm sure she will have tea for your head. Be wise, and drink it." He chuckled and headed back out of the tepee.  
  
Josiah watched him go wondering what path his life had taken.  
  
******  
  
It wasn't long before Josiah found himself surrounded in the teaching and beliefs of the Cherokee way of life. He understood from his travels that each clan was different but he found himself feeling at home within this group of people.  
  
Iskagua laughed when his young son fell from his horse after trying to mount the large beast while it was moving. The boy, no older than six, was already trying to become the strong warrior his father would be proud of. Josiah had been told to call the boy, Sparrow, because his traditional Indian name was too difficult for the white man's tongue.  
  
Josiah walked across the camp and smiled as more children rushed passed him playing a game. The women worked on stripping deer skins and buffalo hides of meat and flesh while the men gathered in groups talking about things that were important to them, hunting, fighting, and caring for their families.  
  
"Yan-e'gwa," Iskagua called to Josiah. He motioned for his guest to watch as his son tried once again to mount his new horse. "My son learns by repetition." He laughed.  
  
"So I see," Josiah replied, joining in on his moment.  
  
"Do you have a family?" Iskagua asked, never taking his eyes off his son.  
  
Josiah didn't know how to answer and he paused for a moment. "My family is…"  
  
"As a man, you can only change yourself, not the people around you. And only through time do you find the correct path," the words came out of the chief's mouth as though he were mentioning the weather and not Josiah's life. He continued to watch his son try and try again to mount his horse, and then finally the small boy stopped the animal and sought out a rock to stand on. "Though he is young, he is smart…and a wise man knows this." He looked from his son to Josiah.  
  
"I'm not a wise man," Josiah admitted.  
  
"If you are not so wise…why then, are you still here?" Iskagua smiled then patted Josiah on the shoulder. "You should spend some time with Asvno'yi…he will help you find your path."  
  
Josiah watched the chief walk toward his son. He was a proud father and one who was willing to show it, not only in his smiles, and affection, but his being as well.  
  
******  
  
The holy man, Asvno'yi, was uncharacteristically young. He was a few years older than Josiah and that showed in his face and demeanor. He wasn't nearly Josiah's size and he walked with a limp, but there was a special power about him that made people take notice. He kept his hair braided and entwined with horsehair. Scars ran up and down his arms, put there by himself, as a tribute to the Mother and her Gifts She had bestowed on her people.  
  
Josiah watched as offerings were made and ceremonial tokens were wrapped in special white doeskins. There was a meaning for everything and everything had a meaning. There was something special about these people and their way of life.  
  
"Iskagua says you are lost," the holy man said, while finishing his task.  
  
Asvno'yi's directness caught Josiah off guard, and he looked from the ground to the sky wondering what to say, or if he should say anything.  
  
"You believe this?" Asvno'yi asked quietly.  
  
Josiah sighed and reluctantly nodded his head.  
  
Asvno'yi smiled and focused his attention back to his task. "To admit this means you are on the right path."  
  
Nothing was said for quite some time as the holy man finished his duties. Josiah watched him wondering what he was going to do with the rest of his life. He'd left the priesthood, turned his back on his father, and abandoned his sister. What right did he have to ask for direction?  
  
"To move forward, you must first forgive your past." The holy man looked at Josiah, knowing what it was the young man sitting before him was thinking. He'd seen many people, of all cultures, looking lost and unsure of themselves. Many found their way in their own time, many didn't, but those that did found their paths with a willing heart and this man wasn't ready. Asvno'yi stood up and looked at Josiah hard for a moment. "When you are ready, I will show you, but first your heart and your mind must be open."  
  
"You think I should go?" it was a question, not a statement.  
  
"Yes, but know that you are welcome here."  
  
Josiah stood up and sadly nodded his head in understanding. He didn't want to leave but knew that he had too. He needed to check on Hanna. At twenty- eight years old he felt like a child, unsure of what to do, afraid to face his fears, and feeling alone. There was still a lot of hate built up in him, anger that had been buried deep was making its appearance a little at a time. These people had been kind enough to let him sleep off a drunk, then they fed him, and they let him sleep in their homes. The least he could do was show them the same respect and leave before he did something he'd regret. He wanted to stay and learn but he knew in his heart that he wasn't ready…and that was the first step in walking the right path.  
  
Chapter 9  
  
When Josiah entered Vista City he was surprised to see the telegraph operator wave him down. It wasn't that the former preacher was well known, but rather, he was hard to forget. After having thrown a couple of the town's largest cowhands through the saloon glass window, everyone seemed to know who he was.  
  
Josiah dismounted and tied Star to the railing and walked toward the office where Bill Mackey had disappeared inside. Suddenly, he came rushing out of the office with a slip of paper in his hand.  
  
"Father Sanchez," Bill said with a shaky voice. "This telegram came for you a while back and since I didn't know where to send it…I just kept it," he handed the slip of paper over to Josiah and continued, "Sheriff Nills didn't know where to find you neither, he's the one that said just to hold onto it and hope that one day…"  
  
"Thank you," Josiah responded, only half listening to the conversation. When he opened the telegram the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He ran a hand through his long hair and turned crystal blue eyes toward the road. Unsure of where to go or what to do, he just stood staring blankly at the path before him. Caleb Sanchez was dead. He'd died three months ago.  
  
Josiah crumpled the piece of paper in his fist then headed toward the saloon. It wasn't that he felt guilty over the death of his father, but because he didn't feel anything. He needed a drink.  
  
******  
  
After visiting Hanna, Josiah headed back to San Francisco. He couldn't stand to be in anyone's company. Though his sister looked better, she'd gained some much needed weight, and actually seemed better than the last time he'd seen her, that fire in her eyes was still gone. She didn't talk, even the nuns had said that Hanna refused or wasn't able to speak. She had, however, taken to drawing and Josiah had managed to find some hard to find chalk. It was the only gift he could give her that she seemed to understand.  
  
It was hard for him…seeing her like that. Her laughter was gone. Her spirit had been quenched. At twenty-six years of age she was gone in spirit, but not in body. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?  
  
******  
  
San Francisco bustled with activity as Josiah rode in. Looking out past the wharf the night sky and ocean seemed to become one entity. This was a beautiful city indeed. Fires burned in the center of the streets lighting travelers' ways and the saloons rang wildly with excitement.  
  
It was hard to believe that just a few miles away from town there was a complete wilderness, and here, it was a thriving town with all the latest fashions and wealth. The Gold Rush of '49 had brought many men and their families West. While some got wealthy, others found jobs.  
  
Josiah dismounted and started up the steps into the Gold Nugget Saloon. It was the flyer tacked to the wall outside the saloon doors that captured his attention. A scantily clad woman had been drawn on the flyer holding a garter. In bold print under the image was the title of the show being performed that night. 'Getting Gertie's Garter', Josiah sighed. He'd never seen a show before and the woman in the picture caused his heart to skip a beat. With newfound determination Josiah entered the saloon and grabbed a table near the front of the stage. Nobody dared threaten him about having the best seat in the house. He ordered a beer and waited patiently for the show to begin.  
  
Smoke, the smell of whiskey, and cheap perfume filled the air as more customers entered with the intent of watching the performance. Everyone was excited. It wasn't common for a real 'New York' actress to come all the way out West to perform. Men of all ages, classes, and sects came to watch.  
  
When she stepped out onto the stage Josiah didn't know if his heart had fallen to his feet or if it simply quit beating all together. Her long auburn hair was curled and danced perfectly around her shoulders as she moved. Her eyes were so rich and green he thought he'd get lost in them and never find his way out. Her robust figure only added to her appeal as she gracefully sashayed across the stage. Her voice sounded like an angel's and her lips moved perfectly around each word. Josiah was in love.  
  
As soon as it started, it ended, and moans of disappointment could be heard like stampeding cattle through a canyon in the small saloon. Though she gave an encore, it wasn't enough. Relief came when her manager stepped out onto the stage and made the announcement that Ms Emma Dubonnet would make three more appearances within the week. So, of course, he encouraged everyone to purchase their tickets and arrive on time.  
  
With the last of his money, Josiah did just that. He purchased a ticket for the remainder of her performances then quickly headed out back of the saloon to wait for her departure. He wanted to tell her how much her act had meant to him. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants then cursed himself for not having a cleaner set of clothing. Quickly, he pulled his hat off his head and nervously played with the brim when the door opened.  
  
"Ms. Dubonnet?" Josiah somehow managed to choke out.  
  
"Why…yes," she replied calmly, placing her finely manicured fingers over her chest. She tensed when her manager placed his hand on her shoulder, reminding her that he was there.  
  
"I just want to let you know how much your performance…meant to me." Josiah smiled, showing off his handsome features in the light cascading from the open door.  
  
"You mean that?" she asked, slightly encouraged.  
  
"Oh, yes…ma'am…"  
  
"Emma," she interrupted, "please, call me Emma."  
  
Josiah's smiled widened. "Would you mind lettin' me escort you to…?" he asked, then snapping his fingers in frustration after realizing he didn't have any money. "At least let me walk you to your hotel."  
  
"I'd be honored," she replied, and then gently she took his elbow and walked with him. Her manager followed at a close distance behind.  
  
"Do you like it here?"  
  
"I must admit, the trip here was quite an experience, however, the scenery is quite…breathtaking." Emma smiled, increasing her hold on Josiah's arm.  
  
Josiah stopped in front of the hotel and reluctantly released his hold on Ms. Dubonnet. She was so beautiful. "I'd like to see you again," he said, turning questioning eyes to her.  
  
"Lunch…tomorrow," she answered, with a smile.  
  
"I'll be right here at noon." He stood firmly in the spot where he knew she'd meet him. There were only two people in the world at the moment himself and Emma.  
  
"I'll be here," she smiled and then reluctantly let him go. "Wait," she called out. "I didn't get your name."  
  
Josiah smiled and introduced himself then with a nod, watched her walk into the hotel with her manager following closely behind. Now, all he had to do was find some money.  
  
******  
  
Never in his life did Josiah yearn for money. He'd always lived with what he needed, not what he desired, but now, he desired a woman, and this woman needed to be properly cared for. Work had been natural for the son of a traveling minister. Time and time again, moving from one town to the next, Josiah had always managed to find a job earning enough money to keep him fed, clothed, and bedded. Now, however, he wanted to think about someone else. Emma was beautiful, and used to having lovely things wrapped around her body, good food to eat, and a clean bed to sleep in.  
  
Josiah looked at Star and made his decision. Reluctantly, he led his trusted mount to the livery. With the saddle and bridle still on his back the horse followed his master.  
  
Forty dollars was all Josiah got, but it was enough, if he spent it wisely. Though it was hard selling his horse he couldn't help but feel it was for the best. Star was getting up in age and the liveryman had said he knew a family that would take great care of the animal. That would have to be good enough. Josiah didn't think Star could make another cross country trek if he had to, although the animal would try. With a soft pat on the neck, the big man said goodbye.  
  
Walking through the streets of San Francisco brought back many memories for the former Priest. He couldn't bring himself to visit the house he used to live in and he couldn't bear the thought of visiting the cemetery where his father now rested. He wasn't sure if he was afraid to face the fact that his father had been well received in the hearts of his followers and yet so bitter by his own children. Nobody understood Josiah's confusion. How could they? He didn't understand it himself. Forgive and forget. How could he forget, when every time he saw his sister his heart swelled in anger for the man who'd done his part in destroying her life?  
  
Pain pierced his chest every time he thought of Hanna's last words to him. 'I knew you'd come back'', he never should have left her. Maybe, if he got married, he could build a home where his sister could live. A room where she could draw and paint and a wife who'd learn to treasure her as much as he did. That would be perfect.  
  
******  
  
Emma smiled when she saw her lunch companion standing in the doorway of the hotel lobby. She wore a pretty blue dress with antique lace highlighting its accents. The man standing there was dressed in a simple outfit, but it wasn't his clothing that captured her attention. It was his handsome physique, broad white smile, and crystal blue eyes.  
  
Josiah held in his hand his hat, as he watched New York's version of Aphrodite descend the stairs. Her manager, or chaperone, walked a few steps behind her carrying her parasol.  
  
"I do love a man who knows the value of being on time," Emma said with a smile.  
  
Josiah's smiled widened as he stuck his arm out for her to take.  
  
"You'll have to excuse Peter's presence…" Emma looked back to her manager, and then continued, "he feels I should be chaperoned."  
  
"Can't say that I blame him. If you were my daughter I'd make sure you were chaperoned as well."  
  
"You want children?" Emma asked, as they walked to the restaurant.  
  
"I'd like to have three daughters," Josiah replied.  
  
"Daughters," Emma sounded shocked, "that's unusual. Most of the men I've met want boys. Strong boys to work the land and carry on the name," her voice went low as she tried to make herself sound strong.  
  
"In my travels I've learned that women are the stronger of the sexes, and for carrying on the name?" he paused and looked at her, "it's the person behind the name that counts."  
  
"So profound," Emma countered.  
  
Josiah laughed and ended up talking all through lunch telling his new lady friend all about his travels. As it turned out, the couple had quite a lot in common. Emma too, had traveled extensively throughout the country singing and acting. She had even performed for the President of the United States, something she was extensively proud of.  
  
When the two were together, Peter didn't exist. It was obvious he was only there to protect his investment and he hated every minute of it. He did have to admit that this was the first time in a very long time that Emma looked like she was enjoying herself. She looked forward to her time with Josiah and in turn her performances improved. It wasn't until Josiah Sanchez popped the question, asking Emma to marry him, which caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. If Emma married, and she was willing to, he'd go broke.  
  
Emma felt safe with Josiah; she didn't know why, just that she did. He never spoke harshly to her and always had a kind word. It didn't matter that she painted her face, or wore revealing clothing, or even performed in saloons and dance halls. She didn't know if she'd be able to be a 'normal' wife, someone who could cook and clean, someone who could darn socks, or even attend church. But she would try. She thought she'd miss the attention given to her by her admirers. She'd miss the fancy clothing and perfumes. But she could live without it. At least she'd try.  
  
When Josiah announced that he was going to study with a Cherokee Holy Man for the next two years. Emma's heart stopped. This was New Orleans all over again. Only her fiancé there left her for another woman, not a holy man. She understood why he had to go and in the back of her mind she was relieved. Truly, she didn't know if she could marry Josiah, he was perfect in every way…except he didn't have money. She could wait two years. Emma took a drink out of the brown bottle on her nightstand. It helped soothe her pain, not just from Josiah's decision to leave, but her own painful past. Now, the opiate encased in that brown bottle was her friend.  
  
******  
  
Josiah placed the photograph given to him by his bride to be in his old Bible. It would be safe there. It was hard saying goodbye to her, but he needed to find his path and he didn't want to become his father…that is what scared him so bad. He had realized that, when he had lunch with Emma. He found himself criticizing her dress, her makeup, and the way she looked in general. Not that he ever let he know what he was thinking. Being so critical was something his father would have done. So instead, he tried to do the exact opposite. But how long would it be before he vocalized that to her. He didn't want to do that, so instead he decided to get his life in order before he got married. He owed that to Emma…he owed that to himself.  
  
Josiah told Emma he'd be back, he'd find her, no matter what city she was in. He wanted to write her but she'd simply replied that it would be futile. Not knowing where she was going to be at, and moving from one town to the next the letters would never find her.  
  
With the last of his money, Josiah purchased a stage ticket East, and then at a stop in the New Mexico Territory, he'd walk north until he found Iskagua and his tribe. He wanted to study and learn and rid himself of all that anger he had stashed away. He was ready to find his path.  
  
Chapter 10  
  
By the time Josiah found Iskagua's tribe, he'd worn out his shoes and was relying on leather strips and leaves to keep what was left of his shoes together. He carried a single bag over his shoulder, filled with only the things he needed clothing, his Bible, and bedding. Sure there were things in the bag that he'd had for a very long time and couldn't part with.  
  
When the view of several tepees appeared it was the most beautiful sight in the world. Smoke from fires burning rose toward the sky then disappeared. Josiah knew that the Indian people had probably known for quite some time that he was making his way toward the camp. Only for the reason that most of the people knew him and the fact that he hadn't been gone that long caused everyone to relax. Children played and ran up to him as he made his way into camp. Several tried to shoot him with invisible arrows, while others used him as a barricade to hide behind. Josiah just laughed. He sighed heavily when Iskagua stepped out of his tepee and stood with his arms crossed over his chest and a knowing look on his face.  
  
Josiah was sure he'd never meet a more knowledgeable individual. There was something about the chief that he respected out of instinct. Though he'd only known him for a short while that admiration was well documented and for good reason.  
  
"Asvno'yi said you would return," Iskagua said, with a smile. It was a warm fatherly smile that caused Josiah to yearn for what he'd missed as a boy.  
  
"I came to study and learn," Josiah responded, dropping his bag to the ground by his feet. "I figure it's time I find my path."  
  
The chief laughed then directed Josiah toward the burning fire. Without having to ask, Iskagua's wife handed the big man a bowl and ordered him to take a seat in her own tongue. Josiah complied and started eating the hefty stew.  
  
Yan-e'gwa was back, and for the first time in a long time…he was welcomed.  
  
******  
  
The laws of the Cherokee people were, for the most part, understandable. While Josiah was able to learn about some things others he couldn't. Religious secrets were forbidden and this was something that Josiah understood. What captured his attention more was the simple fact that many of the punishments for crimes committed by the Indian people were very…Biblical. Even more so than the Christian faith that he'd been brought up under. Granted, many of the punishments were more extreme, but these were the laws.  
  
Asvno'yi was blunt in everything he did. As a boy he'd taken it upon himself to learn English because the spirits had told him to. He in turn taught many of the young children. Though the idea was disturbing to many of the tribe members the chief agreed that to know your neighbor one had to learn his ways.  
  
Much to Josiah's surprise the Cherokee people talked about the North's upcoming war with the South. They spoke of it even more than the people in San Francisco had. Many thought it amusing that these white men were fighting over land that had at one time belonged to them. There were many issues that surprised Josiah, such as slavery. It was the women's voices being heard in regards to freeing the black man, but the Cherokee didn't see it that way. They themselves had owned slaves. It was a part of their culture, their way of life, and their status. Usually their slaves were natives from other tribes. However, they did respect the fact that it was the white women who was taking a stance on a very unpopular subject.  
  
The Cherokee were a noble people who lived their lives on their own terms. Much had changed for these people and Josiah couldn't help believe that the government had done them a great injustice. The land they lived on was poor, but it was the land in which the government had told them they could survive on. Many times blankets and clothing were dirty and so mold ridden that they were useless. The clan relied on their own hunters and warriors for food, at least until the deer and buffalo disappeared.  
  
As a leader, Iskagua knew better than anyone how important it was for the children to learn about the past, and to walk carefully into the future. His people followed him willingly and understood what it was he wanted. If Josiah, a white man, was willing to learn with the Cherokee, perhaps there were more who would be willing to understand them and therefore be willing to live with them. Iskagua was a very intelligent man, and he realized very early that the White Culture was here to stay and as a result they would grow in number…more than anyone realized.  
  
Iskagua also wasn't blind to the relationship between Josiah and Wa'le'la, or Hummingbird. There was much more to them than just the polite greetings and passing departures. They were both young and needed the warmth of a young couple. Josiah truly cared for Wa'le'la, and she for him. Though their relationship wouldn't be accepted in the 'white man's world', it was accepted here. Iskagua would not deny them their feelings for each other.  
  
******  
  
Asvno'yi looked out past the wilderness and toward the man sitting across from him. Josiah had been an impressive student. He never anticipated a reaction, or shunned a belief, and he always seemed willing to learn something new. Josiah had stepped into his name, Yan-e'gwa, with great ease. The children of the tribe often challenged his strength by testing him. Many would hang from his strong arms while others gathered at his feet, trying to stop him from walking. It never fazed them that he could keep walking no matter how many children were attached to him. To even further test his abilities they wanted to teach him to use a bow and arrow. When Josiah pulled back on the bow, getting ready to release the arrow, he snapped the bow…something that was only done by the strongest of men. The children would always laugh and carry on when Yan-e'gwa did something spectacular.  
  
Josiah, in turn, loved the attention. He was witnessing a community of common faith. There were over fifty people in this clan and all of them respected each other. This was something Josiah hadn't witnessed in his own home. Granted there were skirmishes, but they were to be expected. The laws of these people were taken seriously…the punishments weren't worth the risk of getting caught.  
  
Asvno'yi had taught Josiah some of the basic laws. Crimes such as arson, theft from the dead, treason, and infanticide by the father all resulted in death. What surprised Josiah the most was the fact that a mother who killed her child would not be punished. Murder was murder, no matter who did the killing, but maybe there was something that the Cherokee knew that he didn't.  
  
"Why is it that you forgive others but not your father?" Asvno'yi asked, wrapping the buffalo hide around his shoulders.  
  
Josiah didn't know how to answer.  
  
"To heal your heart you must first forgive."  
  
"I don't know that I can," Josiah admitted.  
  
Asvno'yi, or Night Hawk, nodded his head in understanding. He wouldn't push, he knew not to. "Where will you go from here?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"This troubles you?"  
  
Josiah nodded his head. "I've been traveling all my life, I figure I'll keep doing just that."  
  
"For how long?"  
  
The big man chuckled. "As long as it takes my friend, as long as it takes."  
  
"It is good to learn all you can, from all you can. But it is also good to know peace, and your so called 'traveling' isn't peaceful." Asvno'yi looked from Josiah to the flame of the fire. "You are running from your past."  
  
"Is that what my father was doing, moving us from one place to another?"  
  
"Your father was like a gopher, tearing up the ground where he moved."  
  
Josiah laughed he could see the similarities.  
  
"And like a gopher, when it rained it caused his home to flood."  
  
"And mine?" the big man asked reluctantly.  
  
"First, you must find a home and only then will you decide its fate."  
  
Josiah nodded. He not only needed to find a home, he needed to find one that would welcome him. His father would say that his studies with the Cherokee was sinful and polluting his mind with their pagan ways. But these people knew more about life than anyone he'd ever met and for the first time he was learning on his own terms, and not that of his father's. He would have liked to learn more about the Chinese and while he was in India he would have liked to learn about the Hindu ways, or even the Muslim. There was so much diversity in the world, who was he to say that he was closer to God than any of them. Josiah realized that his path was the way of learning, and he'd continue down his path as he continued to learn.  
  
******  
  
Josiah studied with the Cherokee for two and a half years. He'd been given a medicine pouch that he wore on his belt. Yan-e'gwa, looked like a true native of the lands he'd traveled. With a Mexican poncho, a thick belt given to him by Awi-agina, or Fawn, a woman whom he'd come to admire, and buckskin pants he was a strange combination of everything he'd learned and everything he'd been born into.  
  
Wa'le'la was the hardest to say goodbye to. She had spoken to him when he was down or doubting himself. She always had a good word for him and she always knew the best ways to challenge him. She made him smile and laugh when nobody else could. When the time was right, she even warmed his bed. There were no qualms about it, and the whole camp respected it. Wa'le'la was Yan-e'gwa's woman. She cooked, cleaned, and even repaired his clothing, and she never asked for anything in return. Josiah had asked her to go with him, but she couldn't…or she wouldn't. It didn't matter either way. He understood her worries about the 'white man's world', and he wouldn't force her. She would forever hold a piece of his heart.  
  
The Cherokee were on the move once again. This time they were heading north and it was hard for Josiah to say goodbye. Learning from these people had given him a new perspective on his own life. He pulled stories that his grandmother had told him from when he was a boy, and he brought everything he could into his own belief system. For the first time in years he was feeling peaceful. Now, he was heading back to Vista City to visit his sister. He wanted to find a small piece of land and build a home where she could live with him. Josiah was good with his hands, he could farm, do carpentry, and he could even teach, anything that could bring in enough money so he could care for his sister.  
  
Josiah was worried that Hanna wouldn't remember him. Though she looked better the last time he saw her, she still wasn't well. He would love to learn that she'd spoken, or possibly communicated in some other way with the nuns who were seeing to her. He really missed her.  
  
******  
  
Wa'le'la, stood on the hill overlooking the land where she'd fallen in love with a man. She watched him leave, and waved a sad goodbye. She wanted to go with him, but she couldn't. His world wouldn't accept her like her world had accepted him. She understood that, but the pain in her heart was still very real. Gently, she rubbed her belly. A child was coming and the father wouldn't know. A boy, Wa'le'la told herself. Yes, a boy with his father's heart, and his father's strength. This brought a smile to her face. She was ready to face her life, and her future…alone.  
  
Chapter 11  
  
The War Between the States was coming and that's all anyone wanted to talk about. The idea of the South seceding caused everyone to worry. Not just about the war, but their financial stability, and the welfare of those with family in the South.  
  
Josiah entered the saloon after riding into Vista City, with the intention of getting a cup of coffee. It was late and the restaurants were closed. Men of all walks of life sat in their chairs listening to a little man wearing spectacles. He was sitting on the bar next to a lantern getting ready to read from a newspaper.  
  
"Sit down friend," one of the customers called to Josiah. "Ol' Smithy just got back from South Carolina and brung with 'im a paper."  
  
"Hell, Dietz, the paper's more'an three weeks ol', can't say for sure what's gonna happen." Dietz's friend responded.  
  
"That war's a comin' an' we best see to our families," another voice called from within the room.  
  
"EVERYONE HUSH!" the bartender yelled, getting everyone's attention.  
  
Smithy cleared his throat and pushed his spectacles up closer to his eyes. "This is from the Charleston Mercury paper. My brother lives there and he gave me this for all of us to see and realize…"  
  
"Shut up Smithy and read the damn paper," a voice called from the stairs.  
  
Smithy sighed and then continued, "Passed Unanimously at 1.15 o'clock, P.M., December 20th, 1860," he paused before continuing, "To dissolve the Union between the State of South Carolina and other states united with her under the compact entitled ''The Constitution of the United States of America'. We the People of the State of South Carolina, in Convention assembled, do declare and ordain, and it is hereby declared and ordained, That the Ordinance adopted by us in Convention, on the twenty-third day of May, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and eighty-eight, whereby the Constitution of the United States of America was ratified, and also, all Acts and parts of Acts of the General Assembly of this State, rarifying amendments of the said Constitution, are hereby repealed; and that the union now subsisting between Sough Carolina and other States, under the name of 'The United States of America,' is hereby dissolved." Smithy sighed and then said barely above a whisper, "THE UNION IS DISSOLVED," he read the large bold print off the bottom of the page, the words looked to be the only ones there. He then dropped his hands in his lap with his fingers gripping the paper tightly.  
  
The whole saloon was eerily silent. No glass was raised, no cheroot put out, and no breath was released. War was inevitable…and everyone knew it.  
  
"I buried my Ma 'n Virginia," a young man with fiery red hair said sadly. "Like to think I'd at least be buried in the same country with 'er." A hand touched his shoulder in sympathy and understanding.  
  
"If it's a war that's comin'…hell…I'll fight for my country." Dietz sat up straighter in his chair.  
  
"You gonna die for it too?" his friend asked solemnly.  
  
"If'n I have too."  
  
"Lincoln 'ill set things right," the bartender said with conviction.  
  
"Shit, Teddy, he ain't even elected yet," a younger man with hard eyes and a long scar that ran down the side of his face snapped at the bartender.  
  
"He will be," came the terse reply.  
  
Josiah shook his head in disbelief. Another war. He didn't know if he'd be able to fight in this one. Oh, sure, he was still young and he had experience, something that was going to be needed, but this war would be different. They wouldn't be in another country, chasing the enemy through the hills, desert floors, and wastelands of Texas and Mexico. This war was going to be fought on their own lands, by their own people, and by their own kin. Brother against brother. This war would be different, and it would leave a deep wound…no matter who won.  
  
A beer was placed in front of the former priest and everyone raised their glasses to the continuation of the Union. Things would be put right, no matter what.  
  
******  
  
Josiah cracked an eyelid and groaned. Nothing made sense at the moment and he closed his eyes trying to get himself collected. He knew he was sleeping on straw, and he knew that his head had somehow managed to cage an Indian elephant. Unfortunately, that elephant wanted out. He shoed away whatever it was that kept breathing on him and tickling his cheek. He didn't want to open his eyes.  
  
The New Mexico Territory…Vista City…Hanna. Josiah opened his eyes when things stared to come together. He looked up into the brown muzzle of his horse, Tope, and sighed. He didn't remember how he got here. He didn't remember much of anything. A war was coming. Grief filled his senses as he sat up and leaned back against the railing of the stall.  
  
The big paint nipped at his master's poncho, waiting for a treat of some kind. The big horse had been a gift to Josiah from Asvno'yi. Though the animal was young he seemed to know how to handle his master when things got a little 'strange'.  
  
It had been two and a half years since Josiah had consumed any alcohol, and obviously he'd indulged a bit last night. His head was killing him and his mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton. His eyes watered as he tried to adjust them to the light that was coming in through the barn doors. He silently hoped he hadn't killed anyone. He looked down at his hands and his clothing, checking for blood, relieved that he didn't find anything. Using his horse and the stall railings for support he slowly stood up. His head continued to pound and his stomach turned.  
  
Josiah rubbed his face with a callused hand as he concentrated on not losing his stomach's contents. He needed to get ready to see Hanna. He didn't dare go see her looking like this. His hair was too long, she'd never seen him with a beard, and his attire was…unacceptable. He reached into his pocket to pull out the little bit of money he had and was surprised to retrieve a wad of cash. What had he done? Who's money was this? He scratched his head and then realized he needed to find his hat.  
  
Tope nudged his master's shoulder wanting his breakfast. Josiah sighed when he noticed his hat under his horse's right front hoof. So much for his hat. Not willing to take the chance of retrieving the article, he left it. The big man looked up when he noticed a young boy enter the livery. All the horses nickered softly when they noticed little Jared head toward the feedbags.  
  
The boy, Jared, couldn't have been a day over twelve. His unruly blonde hair stood up in spots, causing Josiah to chuckle. When the big man had met the boy the night before his looked exactly the same.  
  
Jared jumped when he heard the laughter from behind him, but calmed when he realized who it was.  
  
"Sorry I'm late, Mr. Sanchez, but I had to milk the cow this mornin'. Pa got in kinda late…"  
  
"It's all right son," Josiah replied, stepping out of his horse's stall.  
  
"I heard 'bout what ya done last night." Jared smiled. "Sure wish I could'a seen it."  
  
Josiah groaned. What had he done?  
  
"Pa said he ain't never seen nobody move a wagon full of grain without horses before. He said ya didn't hardly break a sweat."  
  
Josiah relaxed, a little. That must have been where he got the money, winning it from his escapade.  
  
"I heard stories at school, 'bout a man who could wrestle a bull and drink a beer, at the same time." The boy grinned, and then continued, "You always been strong like that?"  
  
"No, not always," Josiah responded sadly.  
  
"Bet you weren't scrawny like me?"  
  
"You'd lose that bet," Josiah said with a grin.  
  
Jared smiled happily; there was hope for him. "Well, I'd best feed the horses 'fore Mister Hanson tans my hide for bein' late." He nodded to Josiah and then quickly went about his business.  
  
Josiah watched him for a few minutes then tentatively headed toward the baths. He needed a haircut, a shave, and some clean clothing.  
  
******  
  
Sister Margaret smiled when she opened the door to the convent. She looked exactly the same as when Josiah had last seen her. It didn't look as though anything had changed.  
  
"Brother Sanchez," Sister Margaret said, motioning for him to enter. "It is good to see you again."  
  
"How's Hanna?" Josiah asked, before anything else could be said.  
  
"Your sister is doing much better." The sister smiled and continued, "She speaks only to Sister Katherine, nobody else, and we've discovered that she enjoys gardening, as well as drawing."  
  
Josiah smiled, slightly encouraged by what the petite woman was saying.  
  
"Hanna…" Sister Margaret paused, unsure of how to say what she did, "Has suffered greatly, Josiah, and she'll never be the same as she once was."  
  
"Can you tell…"  
  
"If Hanna wants you to know, she'll tell you." She touched Josiah's arm and started to direct him to where his sister was.  
  
******  
  
Josiah was received with a warm embrace and a smile that he'd never thought he'd see again. Though she didn't say anything to him, she walked him around the garden like a small child would show their parents how proud they were of a deed well done. It hurt him to see her like this because she was such a warm loving individual. She looked like Ruth and the older she got the more she really did look like her mother.  
  
To see his sister like this made his heart weep. All her pain, her scars, and her losses could have been prevented if he had been there for her. But now, she was limited to living here, with only two friends, and a brother who could only see her on occasion. The Hanna he once knew was gone…he had to realize that. This was the best place for her.  
  
The former priest thought it would be hardest leaving her again, but it wasn't. Arriving there had been the toughest part of his day. Now, however, he just wanted a drink. Hanna didn't seem to be upset when he said his goodbyes; instead she went on about her business. Painting on small blocks of wood. Sister Katherine seemed to be the one person in Hanna's life that she was the most comfortable with, and with that in mind, Josiah left them together.  
  
Chapter 12  
  
It wasn't long before Josiah had fallen off his chosen path…again. It hadn't been anything particular that had caused it…it had just happened. He compared it to a buffalo getting swept off the tracks by a train. He kept his medicine pouch close to his heart, but he had a tendency to lose himself in the drink. Mostly he drank to forget, but sometimes…he drank to remember.  
  
It wasn't so much the bad times in his life he wanted to hold onto, but rather the good times that were fading. He remembered sitting around his grandmother's feet listening intently to her haunting tales of bandits and the Crusades. It was she, which introduced the idea of 'crows' being the sign of the dead. And it was something that continued to influence his life. As he got older he looked to his mother's mother for inspiration and guidance. Like Ruth, Nana Dee had thought it important to feed the imagination.  
  
Hanna had been too young to remember Nana Dee, and in Josiah's own mind her images were vanishing. It was her stories that lived on. He only thought about them when he saw something that would remind him of her.  
  
Things were changing, and they were changing fast. A war was coming, and everyone was trying to prepare for it in the only way they knew how. Young boys were looking forward to serving their country, fighting for what was right, and making a name for themselves. Josiah not only turned his back on the priesthood, but himself as well. Now, he was fighting in saloons, making a name for himself as someone not to be messed with, and becoming exactly what he hated.  
  
******  
  
It wasn't until March of 1863, that Josiah joined the Union Army. Compelled to do so as one last attempt to straighten out his life. He'd spent the last eight months behind bars for killing a man while in a drunken rage. Josiah had been fortunate; the murder charge had been dropped and he'd only been charged with destruction of private property and had served his term until the proprietor had been paid in full.  
  
Josiah sighed, he'd taken another life and had spent all of his time in jail thinking about it. He didn't think himself a violent man, but when he got drunk every bone in his body desired to hurt someone, as he had been hurt. The problem lies with the fact that nobody was going to know how he felt…nobody.  
  
His horse Tope had been sold after his incarceration as part of his payment for debts owed. The horse he rode now was a big bay gelding who was born about the time of Moses. Mose, was a faithful animal, just not overly energetic. Josiah didn't complain. At least he had a horse to ride; it was much better than walking.  
  
General William Sherman, or 'Cump', as his men knew him, was a driven man who knew what he wanted and went for it. Though Josiah admired his desire for the 'modern war', some of his tactics were less than…humane. The Confederates hated him, but Sherman was one of the most sympathetic Generals to the Southern cause. After spending much of his earlier years in South Carolina, he knew more about the South then he did about the North.  
  
Only nine years younger than the great general, Josiah would watch him in awe. Sherman knew what his life's destiny was and he didn't fight it. He led his men with the same determination that drove him. His men admired that and followed him, they walked into battle accepting whatever fate had in store for them.  
  
Josiah didn't know how, but during that time he found himself consoling many of the men. Not just the boys who were away from home for the first time, but the dying, and scared as well. He fought side by side with these men, became friends with them, and shed his blood with them as well. It was strange looking at the enemy; they looked just like he did. They spoke the same language and shed the same tears.  
  
******  
  
Josiah dusted off his pants with the palms of his hands and looked up. His young friend, Billy Howard, stood next to the large oak tree that seemed to be isolated from the others. Young Billy, was seventeen years old, but somehow seemed older than his age. Life hadn't been easy on the young man who'd been raised in an orphanage after the tragic death of his parents. He looked at life through skeptical eyes but he had a heart big enough for the world.  
  
"When the war ends, I'm gonna go west and get me some land in the Oregon Territory. I've been savin' long enough, so I figure I'll be able to get a nice parcel with that money," Billy said, hope laced every word he spoke.  
  
"There's nothin' more beautiful than watchin' the sun come up over the ocean's crest." Josiah smiled, remembering his time in San Francisco. He loved watching the sun's early appearance. "You make it to the Oregon Territory and you find yourself a bit of land near the ocean's shore. Get yourself a good woman and you'll be the luckiest man on God's green earth."  
  
Billy smiled, his grin reaching from one ear to the next. "You're welcome to come along…don't have many friends and it'd be nice havin' one around."  
  
"That's most kind Billy, but I have things I have to…fix."  
  
"Your sister?" Billy asked, knowing it was Hanna that worried the big man.  
  
Josiah reluctantly nodded. Yes, Hanna, he said to himself. He'd only told Billy a little about her, but the boy was smart enough to know that she was the source of his discomfort and at many times his guilt. Josiah couldn't fix her, but he could support her and to do that he needed to be closer. He knew inside that he was getting closer to being able to take on that responsibility, he'd been afraid of it for so long.  
  
"You know, you could bring her along. I ain't sayin' that it wouldn't be hard at first. Hell, I figure the first few years are gonna be down right tough…but it'll work out in the long run." Billy suggested in earnest. He knew how hard it could be for folks, hard enough for those that had money and were healthy, much less someone who didn't. "After I joined up, I got real sick with typhus, that's what the docs called it anyways. Thought for sure I's gonna die. My friend Gabe didn't last longer'an just a few hours…" he started his story as though he were reading it from a book, but Josiah knew the young man before him had lived his own hell, "…when I got well, I decided I weren't goin' to let nobody tell me how to live my life or what to do with it. Life's hard enough with all that shit people put on ya."  
  
"That's real kind of you to offer," Josiah thanked him.  
  
Billy nodded. He knew Josiah was a proud man, so was he, and he wouldn't push the subject. "What'er you plannin' fer after the war?"  
  
"Don't know," Josiah responded sadly.  
  
"Can't last much longer…can it?"  
  
"Hell, Billy, it wasn't supposed to last this long." Josiah tossed a log into the fire and watched it burn. He hadn't been fighting as long as many of the men, but this hadn't been his first war either.  
  
"Why'd you enlist?"  
  
"I needed a change in my life…" Josiah couldn't think of anything else to say.  
  
"I needed the money," Billy grinned sheepishly. "Don't rightly care who wins, s'long as I get paid."  
  
Josiah looked as his young friend slightly surprised by his statement. "Why is that?"  
  
Billy looked long and hard at the former preacher before he answered, "Can you say who's right in this damn war?"  
  
"The Union has stated from the beginning…"  
  
"Oh that's bullshit, Josiah, and you know it." Billy threw a stone into the burning fire. "This whole damn thing was started because those folks in Washington got scared of losing that money that the South brought in…you ask me I think this whole thing's about money."  
  
"A lot of people would disagree with you," Josiah butted in.  
  
"Let 'em. People is gonna believe what they want to."  
  
"You're too damn skeptical for someone so young," Josiah replied, good- naturedly.  
  
"Can't afford not to be." Billy chuckled. "Besides," he grinned, then continued, "it makes playin' poker that much easier."  
  
Josiah gave a laugh from deep within his belly. "So that would explain my recent losses."  
  
Billy joined him in laughter. "Gettin' land by the ocean's gonna cost me more."  
  
Josiah shook his head and threw a handful of twigs at the youngster sitting across from him. He was thankful for the brief reprieve. Billy could find the humor at his own funeral. When the laughter died down the sound of crickets chirping and the fire burning filled the still air. Things were so quiet…for now.  
  
******  
  
General Sherman was not known for keeping his men in line. Many times his men were known as 'bummers' by other ranks. The lack in his troops only made the stories about him and his men grow wilder by the day. After the burning of Columbia, South Carolina, things got progressively worse. Josiah knew, just by watching and listening, that this was an unruly band of men. There were certain rules that were to be followed during wartime and everyone here seemed to ignore them. Men turned into thieves, vandals, and, at times, arsonists. Very rarely were more serious crimes reported in Sherman's company, but all in all, they were there.  
  
Crows were everywhere, eating on the flesh of the dead. Those that had been fortunate enough to die instantly didn't see the horrors being done to them. Nature could be cruel at times, and in war there was no exception. Sweltering heat, time, and the sun could do things to a body that weren't meant to be seen by the human eye. And the smell was…painfully indescribable. Despite all that, it was the crows that caused Josiah to cringe. There they were, mocking the very lives that had fought so hard for their country. Those black birds fought one another for whatever piece of flesh they could gather, despite the fact that there was enough for all of them, 300 times over.  
  
With the smoke still lingering in the air from the Carolina campaign, the men moved forward. There were still things to do. There were more battles to be fought. Pretty soon the year would come to an end and they all hoped with the New Year would come victory. Everyone wanted to go home…everyone.  
  
******  
  
War did things to men…all men. Josiah, having been experienced in battle before joining the union army, watched in wonder. Was this supposed to put him on the right path in life, or keep him from it for eternity? He was tired of death, tired of fighting, and tired of killing. He'd killed enough, not just in war, but also in life.  
  
In the year and a half Josiah had spent with Billy, the boy had grown into himself. He still had unruly blonde hair, but his eyes were 100 years older. It was the same with all of the men. Josiah shook his head and looked out toward the sleep tents and the small fires burning in the distance. Christmas had been hard on everyone and now the men were facing the turning of the year. They all wanted to believe that 1865 would be different, but that belief was soon quenched with experience. The South did not want to back down, and everyone knew it.  
  
Billy licked his fingers clean and leaned back against the log next to the fire. A Midwestern boy by birth, he didn't find the cold Georgia nights difficult to bear. Josiah, however, was wrapped in a blanket while sitting close to the fire. He was thankful for the fact that Sister Katherine was taking care of his sister, making sure she was warm and had a belly full of food. Though Hanna didn't write, it was the sister who did, and for that Josiah was thankful.  
  
"Some of the men have got a poll goin'," Billy said with a smile. "They're takin' bets on when this skirmish is goin' to end."  
  
"How much did you put down?" Josiah asked, knowing the kid had made a bet.  
  
"Five," Billy responded, then continued, "I think it'll end sometime 'round June…got a good feelin'."  
  
"Can your 'good feelin' give me a day to look forward to?" Josiah chuckled.  
  
Billy closed his eyes for a brief moment and then reopened them. Looking strait at the big man he answered, "The thirteenth."  
  
"Is this a feeling?"  
  
"Na, it's my birthday, leastways I think it is."  
  
Josiah chuckled. Billy did have a way about him. Reluctantly, Josiah picked up his Bible and looked at the worn leather cover. He'd kept it next to his heart in a pocket inside his jacket. He pulled out Emma's photo and carefully ran his thumb over his face. Would she even remember him? He hoped so, because he couldn't forget her.  
  
"You should write 'er, let 'er know where you're at," Billy suggested.  
  
Quickly, Josiah stuck the photograph back into his Bible. "I've tried." He shook his head. "I think it's for the best, if we were meant to be together…we will be."  
  
"You and your faith," Billy said in disbelief.  
  
"Yes…me and my faith."  
  
******  
  
When Robert E. Lee surrendered at Appomattox it only took a few hours for couriers to notify Grant's generals. General Sherman was one of them. Josiah knew in his heart that the war was over before the telegram arrived. There was something in the air that couldn't be explained. Finally, after two years of service the marching would stop. No more trekking through mud, water, heavily wooded areas, or swamps. If Josiah was going to remember anything about the war it was going to be the marches.  
  
When the announcement was made the men cheered, cried, and fell to their hands and knees in prayer. It was time to go home. It was time to leave this dreaded place. Billy looked out over the crowd and then back to Josiah who had his eyes closed and his face toward the spring sun.  
  
"You thinking about that land of yours?" Josiah asked knowing Billy was looking at him.  
  
"No, I's thinkin' about that five dollars I lost."  
  
"Billy, one of these days someone is going to take you seriously." The big man chuckled then went quiet. "You scared?"  
  
The younger man looked questionable at the former priest. Hell yes he was scared. He was just a boy when he enlisted, and now, he was a man. A war hardened man. "Ain't got no reason to be scared, life's lookin' me in the eye and I'm staring it right back."  
  
Josiah looked at Billy. "You ever get into trouble, you call on me." The seriousness in the air thickened. "You understand?"  
  
Billy looked at his friend wondering if he knew something he didn't. "I understand."  
  
Josiah slapped the younger man on the shoulder then went on ahead. His boots hit the muddied ground splattering the southern soil on his pants and shoes. For the first time in years a new hope filled the camp and the men were ready to move on with their lives. Josiah, at 38, was ready to go home. He was ready to see Hanna and take care of her like he should have been doing. He was ready to pay his penance.  
  
Chapter 13  
  
Riding another new horse, Josiah said his goodbyes to the friends he'd made in Sherman's regiments. Billy had left a few days before, wanting to head west to the Oregon Territory. He was going to buy that land by the ocean and watch the sun come up over the horizon. He owed it to himself, and to all the men that had died around him.  
  
While many men decided to stay in the army and serve their country, Josiah, and many like him, headed home. Summer had arrived with a vengeance and the trek west wouldn't be easy. Josiah pulled his hat down further onto his head and kicked his horse into a trot and left the land that he'd called home for so long. Nothing but tattered remains filled the farms, ranches, and once abundant plantations. Former slaves carried their few belongings on their backs heading into uncertainty, while former confederate soldiers headed home too…nothing.  
  
The West was calling Josiah by name, as a gentle breeze gently caressed his ears. Vista City would get closer with each passing day and Josiah yearned to see his sister again. She'd be 35 now he shook his head. Where had the time gone? What was he going to do with the time he had left?  
  
******  
  
Lance kept a steady pace as he traversed the rough terrain. He listened to his master's commands like the well-trained horse he was. The team was heading northwest, partially to avoid the more aggressive Indian tribes and to avoid the devastated remains of the war torn South. Josiah slowed his horse down and dismounted to look more closely at the well-traveled path they were following. The trail wasn't wide enough to accompany a wagon, but pack mules and horses had left a path clear of vegetation. Josiah led his mount past the rocky outcropping and down the steep slope before remounting. It was before he managed to get himself seated that Lance snorted and reared up onto his hind legs. The swipe of a bear's paw came across Josiah's chest and he was knocked from the saddle onto his back.  
  
The bear roared and swiped again at the horse but missed and he fell forward onto his massive front legs. The animal's neck and shoulders moved as one unit as he landed. Power permeated the air about him and every living thing around him knew it. Lance rushed away sticking his nose and tail in the air, only wanting to escape another attack. The birds had hushed their singing and everything went silent.  
  
Josiah sucked in a deep breath of much needed air and reached for the large knife he had tucked away in his boot. His chest burned relentlessly, but thankfully he'd been wearing his heavy jacket and the bear's strike hadn't been fatal. Blood seeped between the torn flesh, but Josiah ignored his pain and quickly started to back away from the enormous beast. To most men Josiah was an intimidating size, but to a bear…  
  
The beast roared again showing off its white teeth. When the animal swiped out again Josiah lunged forward with his knife, this time he was ready. The strong arm of the bear struck its prey in the shoulder at the same time the knife was embedded into the beast's right eye.  
  
Moments seemed like hours as Josiah kicked his feet out toward the now frantic bear. The animal swiped at the knife before falling onto its side only to get up again and rush off into the woods. It stumbled several more times before disappearing.  
  
Josiah grasped at the wounds on his shoulder and chest. They burned fiercely and the blood he was losing was making it almost impossible to keep his senses. He looked in shock at his hands; he'd made it through two wars only to be killed by a bear. His hands shook uncontrollably as he slowly stood up and started walking up the trail. He knew he wouldn't make it to the town he'd just come from so his only hope was making it to the next one.  
  
Even before he made it a half-mile down the small path Josiah collapsed from blood loss and exhaustion. He lay there, fearing not for himself but for Hanna. He wanted to apologize, he needed to make things right with her, but he couldn't, not if he was dead.  
  
******  
  
The smell of burning candles and kerosene filled Josiah's senses. He felt a wet cloth wipe his face and neck and little by little he opened his eyes. The room was dark except for the dull light of the burning candles and kerosene lamp. A form hidden in the shadows sat next to the simple bed he was laying in.  
  
Josiah opened his mouth to talk but nothing came out. A strong hand gently lifted his head and a cold moist glass met his dry lips. The water felt good against his scratchy throat and parched tongue. "Where am I?" He managed to ask, though his voice was harsh and almost inaudible.  
  
"The Monastery of St. Christopher," came the soft-spoken reply.  
  
Josiah squinted his eyes for a moment. "I didn't think there were any…this far north?" He rested his head against the pillow.  
  
"That is where God's work is most needed." The Brother smiled and continued, "In the most unexpected places."  
  
Josiah smiled; he understood how true that very statement was.  
  
"I'm Brother Simean. It was Brothers Jacob and Aaron that found you." Simeon moved slightly and placed the cloth he'd wiped the younger man's face with back into the washbowl. "They also discovered your bear."  
  
"I killed him?"  
  
"They're aren't many men who have fought a bear and lived long to tell about it." Simeon gently grasped his guest's arm. "I do believe God has a special place for you…"  
  
"Josiah…Sanchez."  
  
"Brother Aaron, who has been blessed with a healing hand, managed to stitch up your wounds…they will scar but thankfully they didn't get full of corruption."  
  
"How long have I been here?"  
  
"Two days, and you're welcome to stay as long as you need." Brother Simeon stood up and gently patted Josiah's good shoulder. "You should rest. I'll wake you for breakfast come morning."  
  
Josiah nodded and watched as Brother Simeon left the small room, his long dark robe gently flowing behind him. How could he repay these people for giving him his life back? Now, he would see Hanna, now he could set things right. It wasn't long before Josiah closed his eyes and dosed off to sleep.  
  
******  
  
Josiah woke to find his right arm strapped to his torso. His skin felt tight but thankfully the pain wasn't too bad. Sunlight crept in through the simple window coverings and his eyes quickly adjusted to his surroundings. He could hear birds singing outside the open window and the sound of several shovels striking the rocky ground.  
  
When the door squeaked open Josiah's attention turned from the window to the monk who entered the room with a smile. Brother Simeon greeted his guest with a plate of home cooked bread and eggs and a tall glass of milk.  
  
"You look better today," he said, moving the now empty kerosene lamp to place the plate on the small table. "Brother Aaron changed your bandages early this morning and was pleased to see that your wounds were clear."  
  
"I really want to thank you for savin' my life."  
  
Brother Simeon smiled and then, without being asked, helped Josiah sit up. "There is no thanks necessary. It was by God's will that we found you."  
  
"Still…I want to thank you," Josiah replied with a smile.  
  
"Eat, and then I'll show you around the grounds…if you feel up to it." Brother Simeon gently patted Josiah on the shoulder and then quietly left the room.  
  
Josiah watched him go. For the first time in a long time he felt at peace…and he was thankful for it.  
  
Chapter 14  
  
The Monastery was small but built similar to that of the classical Spanish style communes. The outside was sod, wood, and rock. The inside was much more intricate. Porcelain tiles, that had been carefully painted, covered the walls on each side of the entryway. Most of the rooms were simple in decoration and construction because they were used more for practicality than anything. However, the church was exquisite. The benches had been carefully carved displaying the first story of the Bible to the last story. The pulpit was covered in red and white satins while a monk wearing the traditional brown robe carefully painted his own rendition of Caravaggio's, Supper at Emmaus. The painting, though dark and mysterious, seemed to pull Josiah in. He not only wanted to know what each image in the painting was thinking, he wanted to know about the artist.  
  
"Brother Andrew has been with us for sixteen years," Brother Simeon answered Josiah's question before he could ask it. "He took his vow of silence and now spends his time in meditation and painting."  
  
"The work is…breathtaking," Josiah whispered.  
  
"You'll find that most of the men here are devoted followers of God and use, to the fullest, the gifts that have been given to them."  
  
"What about you?" Josiah asked out of curiosity, as Brother Simeon continued to show him the grounds.  
  
Simeon chuckled. "I've been blessed with the gift of speech…or so my brothers tell me." They walked into the kitchen where two monks were cooking the evening meal. "You'll find that about half of us have taken the vow of silence, others have chosen more menial type of work such as cooking," he smiled to the Brother closest to him who handed both he and Josiah a small bit of fresh baked bread, "others work in the garden, some work with the farm animals, and there are those of us who venture out and aid the Indians with their needs."  
  
"You ever have trouble with them?"  
  
"Surprisingly, no." The kind hearted Brother watched as Josiah munched on his bread. "I fear that most of the stories of massacres and violence against the Whites is of their own creation. The Indians want to be left in peace…much like us here."  
  
"May I ask you something?" Josiah paused and looked hard at the man next to him.  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"How do you know you're right in what you're doin'?"  
  
"That's a complicated question," Simeon smiled and nodded his head. "I don't believe any of us are truly right," he responded sadly, "however, it's the light we have and live up to that creates our relationship with God, not the church we attend."  
  
Josiah smiled. His father could have learned a lesson from this man. "When did you become a monk?"  
  
"I grew up a Catholic in Connecticut, but I lost my way when I became a young man." He chuckled remembering back. "It was when I turned 35 that I decided to change my life. I'd heard about this place and decided to come West. I've been here for fifteen years."  
  
"I admire you for that," Josiah stated.  
  
Brother Simeon smiled and touched Josiah's arm. "Don't admire me, brother, admire what God has done for me."  
  
Josiah stood and watched as his new friend walked out into the gardens. They were beautiful. Flowers of every kind lined the walkways and the grass was so green it didn't look real. Carefully chosen rocks had been placed on the path between buildings and the front gate giving the residents a feeling of heaven on earth. Though the walls were thick and high they didn't give the appearance of being, harsh or dangerous. Instead, they were built as a form of art, and anyone who cared to look would notice it. Ivy and bird nests created a home for the people within the walls. Trees and carefully trimmed bushes provided not only shade but fruit as well. They were completely self-proficient. The gardens, Josiah was sure of it, was Eden on loan from God. Not one weed penetrated the freshly turned ground. A painter couldn't have painted a more exquisite image.  
  
"I was a priest once," Josiah admitted, looking in awe at the gardens.  
  
"But not anymore?"  
  
"No." Josiah shook his head. "I seem to have trouble…"  
  
"Turning the other cheek." Brother Simeon laughed, not to belittle the man before him, but in understanding.  
  
"Yeah, you could say that," Josiah replied with a smile of his own.  
  
"Don't be ashamed of who you are Brother. Embrace what makes you different, there's a reason God made you the way He did." Brother Simeon walked toward the barn with Josiah following closely behind. "Even I…have found it necessary in my life to get a little…Old Testament…at times myself."  
  
Josiah laughed, filling the air with the sound that had been silent for so long. Yes, he did get 'Old Testament' at times. When they entered the barn, Josiah paused. His horse Lance stood in the last stall munching on some hay, content to be there.  
  
"He wandered in with a few of our own Indian ponies," Brother Simeon said.  
  
Josiah smiled and patted the Brother's shoulder before moving forward to see his horse. Brother Simeon watched in amusement.  
  
******  
  
Thanks to Brother Aaron's healing prowess Josiah's wounds healed quickly. There would be scars as a lifelong reminder of the incident, but he wouldn't replace that with the time he'd had with these people. He truly felt blessed. While he stayed in their care he worked constantly on repairing the old greenhouse. A storm had ripped part of its roof off and the shutters needed repaired. He'd never been a stranger to hard work, his father made sure of that. However, this was different. Now he was beginning to see the benefits. It helped clear his mind, answer questions he'd never known to ask, and it helped him build strength and character.  
  
This was the kind of life Josiah wanted and it was the kind of life he wanted for his sister; free, simple, and rewarding. The Brothers at the monastery had been warm and inviting. They'd managed to show Josiah how kind God truly was. He also learned that Church wasn't a building, it was the people who gathered in common faith.  
  
******  
  
Brother Simeon watched as Josiah finished saddling his horse. He was leaving to fulfill his destiny in life. Simeon was sorry to see him go, but he understood why his friend was leaving. He needed to move on with his life and he needed to help his sister.  
  
Josiah turned and shook Simeon's hand. "I want to thank you for all you've done."  
  
Simeon pulled out of his robe an old roughly carved wooden cross. "I made this from an old piece of drift wood I'd picked up while I was at the coast before I made my way here." He handed the cross to Josiah who took it gently. "It's not fancy, but I discovered my path while carving it…perhaps it will help you find yours."  
  
Josiah smiled trying to hide the tears that wanted to fall. "Thank you," he whispered.  
  
Brother Simeon smiled and reached out and squeezed his friend's forearm. "Greatness awaits you my friend." He took a step back and watched as Josiah mounted up on his horse. "God's hand on you Josiah."  
  
Josiah tipped his hat and kicked his horse in the sides and slowly they made their way out of the monastery. Home was just around the corner and he intended to get there. He had to.  
  
******  
  
Josiah was a household name in Vista City and it surprised the big man that people he'd never met knew who he was, just by his appearance. The town hadn't grown much, and the buildings looked the same. Weeds grew out of control next to the water troughs, just out of reach of the horses that were tied there. Dust devils blew sporadically down the main street while a few children played in the side alleys. Even the saloon seemed desolate with only a few patrons engaging in a game of poker and drink.  
  
Lance stopped when he felt the slight pull of the reins. The horse stuck his nose in the dirty water and shook his head, clearing away the pollen, dust, and bugs that had gathered as a film on the surface. Josiah wrapped his horse's reins on the hitching rail and headed inside the hotel. He intended on getting a bath, a meal, and a change of clothing before going out to see his sister.  
  
Sitting at the restaurant table Josiah didn't need to look up to know everyone there was looking at him with curious eyes. The stories had rung wild, taking on lives of their own. Yes, Josiah had killed men and he'd killed out of anger and without provocation. But he'd never killed with malice in his heart. He'd only defended himself. Sometimes someone died. His strength was a legend of its own. According to the stories, Josiah could bend the end of a rifle, split a log in only one swipe, and crush a man's skull with his hand.  
  
As he finished his meal he tried not to let the stares bother him, but they did. It wouldn't matter to these people the truth of his life the lies were too fascinating. Determined not to let this bother him, Josiah took a hot bath and washed the layers of dirt off his body. He trimmed his beard, only leaving a now graying mustache and a soul patch below his bottom lip. He cut his unruly hair, wanting to remove any likeness to his father that he had, now it was short and always covered with his wide brimmed hat.  
  
Josiah tightened the tie around his neck and looked at himself in the mirror. The only thing he had that reminded him of his father was his eyes, and he couldn't change those. With broad shoulders covered in an off white shirt, his hips and legs hidden under black slacks. Though he wasn't dressed fancy he was ready to face his sister.  
  
With one last look in the mirror, Josiah headed outside. People in the lobby moved out of his way before he had a chance to ask them. Shaking his head, he mounted up on Lance and headed for the convent.  
  
Chapter 15  
  
It was Sister Katherine who met Josiah at the front gate. She smiled warmly and quickly hurried Hanna's brother inside. A storm was brewing and she didn't want to get wet.  
  
"Brother Sanchez, it is so good to see you."  
  
"I hope I've not come at a bad time," Josiah responded, not wanting to put the sisters out anymore than he had.  
  
"Nonsense," she scolded. "I fear I must tell you that…Sister Margaret passed away a few months ago. She wanted so much to see you come home safe after the war but her heart gave out a day before the news came of General Lee's surrender."  
  
"I'm so sorry…I didn't…"  
  
"You're here now, Brother, you're here now." The nun gently touched his arm and guided him toward his sister's room. "Hanna will be pleased to see you. She keeps your letters locked away in her room," Katherine said with a smile.  
  
Josiah stopped outside Hanna's room door and looked seriously at her caregiver. "Can I take her home?"  
  
Sister Katherine paused and motioned for Josiah to follow her. The office they entered was full of books, many older than Josiah felt, and images of the Holy Trilogy. There wasn't a speck of dust in the whole room and everything looked in perfect order. The nun sat behind the desk and laced her fingers together.  
  
"Hanna has come a long way since you brought her here, Josiah, and I don't think by removing her you would be doing her any favors."  
  
"I can't ask you to care for her…you've done so much all ready." Josiah nervously rubbed his hands together.  
  
Katherine smiled. "Hanna is a gifted individual who has special needs, but most importantly she's welcomed here and you…or Hanna will never be looked on as a burden."  
  
Josiah ducked his head and nodded. "She's not better…is she?"  
  
The sister shook her head. "No, she's not."  
  
The former priest nodded his head in understanding.  
  
"Hanna was pregnant…"  
  
"What?" Josiah interrupted.  
  
"She told me she had done some things when she was younger and she felt as though the loss of her child was her punishment for her actions." Sister Katherine watched Josiah carefully. "She said her father beat her until she lost the baby…under the circumstances Josiah, this is the place for her. Here she can be at peace with her past, there's nobody here who'll hurt her, and she doesn't have to be afraid."  
  
"I'll send money whenever I can…" Hanna was pregnant, the words echoed in Josiah's mind.  
  
Sister Katherine nodded her head. "Most importantly, come and see her, that is all I ask."  
  
"Did she say if my father knew what he had done?"  
  
"No, and I ask you not to repeat anything I said to Hanna. She speaks to me in confidence and I do not want to break that." Katherine stood up and pushed her chair under her desk. "This may not be an ideal life for her, but it is a more suitable one."  
  
Josiah couldn't deny that. It was hard enough for himself; he didn't want to think about how hard it would be for his sister. Slowly, he followed the sister once again toward Hanna's room, angry with himself for her predicament, disgusted with his father for her situation.  
  
Sister Katherine understood how difficult it was for Josiah. She also knew how hard it was for Hanna. This was the best place for her. They all knew it, now it was just a matter of dealing with it.  
  
******  
  
Hanna smiled when Josiah stepped into her room. She got up off the floor and greeted her big brother with a warm embrace. It was so good to see him again. Hanna's hair had been pulled back away from her face, though she was still thin, she had some color on her features.  
  
Josiah returned her hug with vigor. It was so good to see her again. She was all that was left of his family, and he wanted to keep her safe for the rest of her life. He realized at that moment that he couldn't do it on his own, and he thanked God for providing a place for her.  
  
She still didn't talk but she proudly showed her brother her creations in paint and chalk. Images of the Bible she'd tried so hard to suppress as a child, now they consumed her imagination. Giving new life to old stories, Hanna was able to express herself through art. Her room had been completely covered in colors and drawings. Obviously the money Josiah was sending went for her supplies. He didn't mind. Why would he?  
  
Hanna's clothing was simple and basic, not the fine silks and cottons seen in the towns he'd recently visited. However, they were practical. Their purpose was to keep her warm and covered and they did their job in abundance. She had given up wearing shoes and when Josiah asked Sister Katherine about it her response had simply been, "Hanna enjoys the feel of the earth beneath her feet." Josiah didn't complain. Hanna was healthy, and that was all that mattered.  
  
The sister, Josiah, and Hanna all ate together and enjoyed the sound of the rain hitting the room of the convent. Winter was just around the corner and the soft movement of the tree branches and bushes going dormant were only the conformation of that. Sitting near the window towards the gardens brought back a lot of memories. Josiah didn't know if his sister was thinking about the times they'd had a picnic with their mother while their father was away. Those were some good times. It didn't matter he guessed, as long as he remembered them.  
  
When it came time to say goodbye, Josiah noticed how Hanna immediately fell in love with Lance, and the big horse nudged her affectionately. Josiah told her that he'd named the animal after the character Sir Lancelot from the book King Arthur and the Nights of the Round Table. He didn't know if she understood that, but it made him feel better. Hanna had loved the story as a child, but now she showed no recognition of it.  
  
Hanna waved as Josiah rode away and then she quickly went on about her business. This was her home.  
  
******  
  
Josiah left with a heavy heart. It always tore him up inside to see his sister. It was the realization that she was never going to be the same girl she'd once been. Oh, she looked better, and she acted better, but she wasn't the same. His heart broke knowing his father had beat her to the point of causing her to lose her child…his nephew…or niece. Josiah clenched his fists around the reins. It seemed everywhere he turned their was a reminder of his father…and he hated it.  
  
******  
  
Every bit of extra money Josiah made he sent to Sister Katherine for Hanna. Though he moved from town to town he tried to visit her at least once a month. Every time he saw her it was a reminder of what he'd done, and what his father had done. He usually left with the intention of getting drunk, and sleeping away his painful past.  
  
The stories of his past followed him wherever he went. He hoped they would disappear as time went by, but they didn't. Traveling from one town to the next, doing everything from trapping and hunting to construction. Jobs were scarce, but Josiah was determined to stay close enough to Hanna that it would only take a few days to get to her. He never treated himself to anything…except…a bottle of red eye and the occasional good meal.  
  
As the years went by Josiah decided that penance was his way to salvation, if there was one to be had. It was nine years after the war that he discovered an old abandoned church that was in desperate need of care. Only the front remained and that was even in tatters, but Josiah figured he was just the man to rebuild. It wasn't far from a nameless town that had been built by a homesteader some forty years prior and was now run by outlaws and bandits. Vista City was only a couple days ride from the old church and that suited him just fine.  
  
Chapter 16  
  
The sound of a coyote's cry filled the night air and Josiah looked up from his fire toward the mountains in the distance. The night was so peaceful here. The stars lit up the night sky while the full moon supplied ample light for night travelers. Josiah's muscles ached from moving rocks that would one day supply the walls for the church he was working on. He leaned back against the Mexican saddle he'd purchased some months before. He'd worn out his other saddle and this one seemed to have his name written all over it. His horse, Lance, now fourteen years old, munched on some grass a short distance away.  
  
Josiah jumped when he heard the sound of another horse ride closer to his camp. He grabbed his pistol and carefully tucked it away under the blanket that he'd thrown over his shoulders.  
  
"Hello, the camp!" The call came from a short distance away.  
  
As the horse and rider got closer Josiah looked intently at them. This was a hard land and he wasn't about to be robbed and left for dead in the desert. With the light of the moon giving him adequate visibility, Josiah could tell the rider was a black man riding a chestnut gelding.  
  
"Mind if I share your fire for the night?" The stranger asked kindly.  
  
"Don't see why not," Josiah responded. He let his guard relax when he realized that the man was alone.  
  
"I'm Nathan Jackson, from Four Corners." The man introduced himself after dismounting. "I'm the healer there." He stuck his hand out for Josiah to shake.  
  
Josiah introduced himself and watched as this stranger carefully tended his mount with care. Though his clothing was old it was well cared for. What captured the former priest's attention was the leather harness that held several throwing knives behind Nathan's back.  
  
"There's coffee…you're welcomed to it."  
  
"Thank you," Nathan said. He grabbed a cup out of his saddlebags and using the rag next to the fire he reached for the pot and poured himself some of the hot brew. "You travelin' through?"  
  
"No, I've been here a long time," Josiah replied with a smile.  
  
"Ain't seen ya in town and most don't last too long travelin' alone." Nathan carefully leaned back against his saddle. He knew who Josiah was, he'd heard the stories and if anyone could survive in this land by themselves it would be him.  
  
"Most…but not all," Josiah corrected.  
  
Nathan chuckled. "I guess you're right."  
  
"The folks around here must keep you busy, being that there aren't many doctors in the area?"  
  
"Try none," Nathan sighed, "but there are a few folks here that'll let me see to them, not many, but some. It's hard for a Negro to get folks to trust 'em."  
  
"Negro or not, son, it's hard for everyone."  
  
Nathan nodded. "I've been to Wilson's homestead, they've come down with the measles." He shook his head. "Wouldn't let me treat 'em at first, not 'till they got real sick."  
  
"They're doing better now?" Josiah asked, genuinely concerned.  
  
"Lost the youngest, but the two older boys is gonna pull through okay."  
  
"Then you've done all you can for them, Brother." Josiah sighed and looked across toward the man on the other side of the fire.  
  
"Just wish I could do more."  
  
"But do not forget to do good and to share for with such sacrifices God is well pleased." Josiah quoted, "Hebrews, chapter 13 verse 16."  
  
"You a preacher or somethin'?" Nathan asked in curiosity.  
  
"I used to be," Josiah reluctantly admitted, "but I'm not one anymore."  
  
Nathan looked at the big man sitting across from him. "Do you miss it?" he asked, hoping he hadn't pushed to far.  
  
"No," the big man shook his head, "I don't."  
  
Nathan nodded in understanding.  
  
"I haven't seen many Negro healers in my travels." There wasn't any malice in Josiah's voice. "How'd you come by it?"  
  
"I was a stretcher bearer durin' the war. Picked up what I could," Nathan admitted. "Got tired of watching people die, thought I could do my part in tryin' to keep 'em alive."  
  
"That's a noble thing to do."  
  
"When I ran from the plantation all I wanted to do was be free, and fightin' in the war seemed to be the right thing to do…" Nathan continued, feeling uncommonly comfortable talking with this man, "There ain't many doctors here, so the least I can do is try and keep those that are willin' healthy."  
  
Josiah nodded. It was strange looking at this former slave, knowing he had to have been full of anger at one time, but now he served anyone who was willing to let him. There was no comparison between the two men. Josiah still angry and bitter about his past…about his father, and Nathan, doing what he knew, healing, to treat the people of this territory, blacks, whites, and Indians.  
  
"So what are you doin' all the way out here?" Nathan asked, taking another sip of his coffee.  
  
"Exercising my demons," Josiah responded with a laugh.  
  
Nathan joined him. In truth both men were exercising them…only in different ways.  
  
Chapter 17  
  
September 1874  
  
"Next thing I know is, Brother Nathan, is asking me to help you and Chris defend the Seminoles." Josiah chuckled at the memory.  
  
"Seems you didn't want to ride with us at first," Vin jabbed.  
  
"Didn't," Josiah admitted. "But after you boys showed back up, like I knew you would, I'd decided that this was my path. The birds of darkness told me so." Josiah paused and looked at Vin who was ginning. "Just didn't think we'd last this long."  
  
"Hell, Josiah, I'm just shocked you lived this long," Vin replied with a laugh. "I'm sure glad you have though."  
  
"Me too, Brother, me too."  
  
Vin stood up and stretched his back then he gently slapped Josiah's shoulder. "Le'me buy ya a beer, to celebrate new beginnings." He smiled looking down at his friend.  
  
And the dove came in to him in the evening; and, lo, in her mouth was an olive leaf pluckt off: so Noah knew that the waters were abated from off the earth. "To new beginnings." Josiah replied.  
  
No truer words had ever been spoken.  
  
Vin started down the steps and suddenly stopped. He knew what the former Priest was thinking. "What's said 'twixed you and me... stays that way."  
  
The sincerity in Vin's voice caused Josiah to smile. He knew he could trust the tracker. Josiah stood up and rolled his shoulders. "Maybe we can talk ol' Ezra into a game."  
  
"Won't have to do much talkin'," Vin responded.  
  
"That's my point," Josiah said with a chuckle. There were very few constants in life, but it seemed these men were one of them.  
  
The End  
  
Notes: It's important to realize that the laws and belief systems of the Cherokee Indians vary from clan to clan. Much of their laws and beliefs differed; do to their location, experiences, and longevity.  
  
The newspaper 'Extra' came out of the book, Civil War Extra; A Newspaper History of the Civil War from Nat Turner to 1863.  
  
Corruption was the term most often used for the term infection. 


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